Shattered
by veneratio
Summary: Harry is in for very bad summer, and no one knows, until someone rescues him from the depths of his troubles. HPSS. Mentions of child abuse and rape. Please RR! Go read...
1. Chapter 1

Harry stepped off the Hogwarts Express, dread sinking his heart to the bottom of his stomach. He had always hated this part of the year. It always brought him fear and trepidation.

"Coming, Harry?" Ron called to his friend. Harry nodded mutely and followed, dragging his trunk behind him. Of course, Ron would never understand. He had a whole loving family behind him, full of siblings and people who actually cared.

Ron had been looking forward to going home. His parents had recently come into some money and had promised to take himi overseas for holiday. He had been harping on the fact ever since. "Oooh...this holiday is going to be so fun!" Ron could be heard chattering with the other Gryffindors about the good news.

"You alright Harry?" Hermione said quietly to her friend. Harry had been quiet throughout the train journey, constantly looking aloof and lost in thought. He did not even engage in Quidditch conversation, only nodding and agreeing thoughtlessly when Ron asked him for his opinion. In the end, Ron had given up asking him for his views, instead once again bringing up his favourite topic, the upcoming holiday.

Harry nodded slightly in response to Hermione's question, forcing a smile onto his face. He didn't want to worry his friends. Hermione looked at him doubtfully but turned away, not wanting to press the matter further.

Harry bit his lip and looked down. No one would ever understand how he felt. All his classmates had happy families to go home to, while for him, Hogwarts was his home, the only place he had ever felt comfortable and free in, but yet he could not stay there. Professor Dumbledore had not allowed it, no matter how much Harry had pleaded with him.

The trio finally got past the barrier and emerged on the other side.

"Ron, Harry, Hermione!" came Mrs Weasley's warm exclamation as she hurried forward to receive them and pull each of them into a tight hug. Harry enjoyed Mrs Weasley's hugs. They made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside, a sensation he had never felt before. Ron never knew how lucky he was.

"Mum!" Ron protested, his face going immediately red. Laughing, Hermione pulled away to greet her parents.

"Uh, I'd better get going," Harry muttered, catching a glare from his uncle a few metres away. Uncle Vernon was eyeing the Weasleys with evident distaste, and Harry definitely did not want to incur his wrath by staying with the Weasleys for too long.

"Take care, Harry, and write!" Mrs Weasley called behind him. Harry turned, forcing a cheerful smile on his face and waved goodbye.

"Come here, boy, and get into the car quickly. Don't want anyone I know to see you hanging around with _those_ kind of people," Vernon spat. Harry could smell alcohol on his breath. He had evidently been drinking.

Heart sinking, he lugged his trunk to the car and hoisted it into the trunk before taking his seat in the passenger seat. When he got into the car, Vernon was struggling to open a whiskey bottle.

"Can't get this bloody thing open. It must be you, you jinx, I lost my job last week, because of you! What did you do, boy?" Vernon snarled. His face was ruddy from the alcohol and fury. His face loomed right in front of Harry, looking extremely red and huge.

Harry recoiled instinctively. Uncle Vernon did not seem lucid enough to drive. Harry just hoped that he could get home in one piece. He had heard of all kinds of accidents due to drink-driving.

Vernon started the car after a few tries and blasted the radio, singing along with it like a wailing banshee. Harry kept silent, not wanting to draw any more attention to himself, just wishing he would reach home faster.

At last, they reached a side road. In another two minutes, they would reach home in one piece, if Uncle Vernon could hold out till then.

"Damn thing still won't open!" Vernone grunted, taking his hands off the steering wheel for one moment to open the bottle.

Harry's heart leapt for a moment, praying that his uncle would open the bottle soon and actually focus on getting them home safely.

Suddenly, the car swung crazily into the opposite lane. Vernon had jerked the steering wheel when his hands had slipped trying to open the bottle.

Harry crashed into the side, cracking his head on the window. He looked up in terror, only to see a car looming straight in front of them.

"Uncle Vernon!" Harry shrieked.

His uncle looked up and grabbed the steering wheel, swerving suddenly in an attempt to avoid the oncoming collision. It was too late. The other car crashed into the passenger side with a sickening metal groan.

Harry felt a tremendous pain in his side. The car gave another sickening jolt as another car could not avoid the pile-up. Harry, unable to do anything, hit his head, hard against the window. Everything was fuzzy until it all faded away into black.

* * *

When Harry came to, it was raining, and he could feel droplets of water on his face. 

"Sonny, can you hear me?" Came a kind voice beside him. Harry tried to turn his head, sending a sharp pain in his neck.

"Yeah." Harry croaked. "Pain." His breath was ragged now. Everywhere on him was hurting, his head was throbbing, and his right foot was trapped. His entire right side felt numb with pain, and he couldn't move. He wouldn't be paralysed, would he? He had heard on the news before about people getting crippled in car accidents, being unable to move parts of their body. His head hurt. It hurt to think too much. He was tired.

"Okay, you hold on now, keep awake, don't go to sleep on me. We'll try to get you out." The voice tried to assure him.

There was a machine being started up somewhere near him, and started sawing at the metal. Harry's blood was pounding in his ears. He had never been so badly injured before.

Harry chanced a glance at his uncle. He was on a backboard, being transported to a waiting ambulance. He was unconscious and was bleeding slightly from the head.

"Okay son. We're gonna try and get you out now. Relax and don't resist okay?" Harry was too weak to respond, but instead settled for a soft groan.

Gentle hands cut away the seatbelt obstructing him and slipped a backboard under him. As he was strapped onto it, he felt his right leg throbbing painfully. As he glanced at it, it was bent at an obscene angle, and a bit of bone was sticking out of the skin. Harry closed his eyes in repulsion. His head ached and every movement sent an acute pain through his head. He moaned softly. There was a rustle of clothes and then someone reaching out to touch his cheek tenderly. "What's your name, son?" Someone asked.

"H-Harry," he croaked.

"Well, Harry, don't worry. You'll be fine. We'll get you fixed up in no time, all right?" Harry opened his eyes and looked up to a kind-looking man in a paramedic's uniform. He was gazing sadly down at Harry.

He felt himself being lifted into a waiting ambulance. There was a kind lady, called Lisa, as she asked him to call her, who strapped a band around his upper arm "to check his blood pressure", she had said.

Another man, Jeremy, he had said he was, was attaching a drip onto him. Harry felt the unpleasant sensation of a warm liquid seeping into his veins, and he writhed, only to hurt his injured body more. A shock of pain passed through his body and everything went black.

* * *

When Harry came to, he was in a starkly white hospital room. He tried to lift his arm, but found that he couldn't move. 

His heart pounded as he feared he was paralysed, but later realised it was only due to his fatigue and the casts restricting his movement.

He had a neck brace on and a bandage around his head, and his right foot, in a cast, had been elevated on a pillow. His torso had been wrapped tightly, probably due to broken ribs, Harry guessed. With great effort, he lifted an arm to feel his head. It was sore where he had hit it on the window.

He was uncomfortable, and he clawed at the neck brace. It was terrible and it reminded him of Aunt Marge's dog collars. He shifted, trying to get into a more comfortable position, but a sharp pain shot through his right hip, and he hissed in pain.

"Oh, you're awake," a friendly voice broke him out of his discomfort. It was a kind-looking nurse, and she was carrying a tray of medicine. "Let me check you. Don't move, alright?"

Harry obeyed her, wincing a little as she changed the bandages on his head gently. "How am I?" he questioned. He needed to know how badly he was hurt.

"Pretty badly shook up, I must say. A mild concussion, a broken foot, sprained neck, sprained hip and a two broken ribs." She reeled off, counting them off her fingers. "I think you must have gotten the worst of the accident."

"My uncle, how is he?" Harry crossed his fingers, hoping that Uncle Vernon wasn't hurt too badly. Otherwise Harry would definitely get the worst of it when he was discharged.

"Oh, Vernon Dursley, just a mild concussion and a sprained ankle. He should be out of hospital in a week." the nurse said pleasantly.

"Oh" Harry couldn't think of anything else to say.

"Anyway, I wouldn't be too worried about your injuries if I were you. You'd be up and about in no time at all! Let's see you take your medicine okay?" She asked him. Harry nodded, receiving a tablet and a injection from her.

The next few days in hospital were the best kind of treatment he had ever had. The Dursleys never visited him, and he could eat all he wanted, without having to do any chores, and could even watch telly all he like.

In a week, the neck brace and the bandages were removed, leaving on the cast on Harry's foot. He could be discharged, the doctor had said, but he had to make sure he stayed off his feet, used the crutches whenever he wanted to move about, and come back in two weeks for a follow-up. Harry nodded, dreading his return back home. To his surprise, the Dursleys picked him up, "out of convenience", they had said, since they had to pick Uncle Vernon up too, and they "didn't want to appear so heartless in front of the neighbours".

* * *

It was three days since Harry had been discharged. As expected, Vernon had blamed Harry for the accident, losing his cool once and slapping Harry, hard. But under Aunt Petunia's coaxing, he had stopped.

She had reasoned with him, saying that it would be better to wait until Harry's next checkup was over before he tried anything. Otherwise, it would not do any good if the "nosy doctor" found anything amiss.

Harry listened to these words with a sinking heart. After the checkup, there was no knowing what Uncle Vernon would do next.

In the following two weeks, Harry was cooped up in his room, taking his meals through the cat flap, like before. Except it was harder to reach the food on the ground seeing he was on crutches.

Finally, Harry completed the checkup. Vernon was the one who fetched him home. Harry noticed a maniacal glint in his uncle's eyes, a look he had never seen before, throughout all his years. He just hoped that this summer would pass quickly, or someone would find out.

* * *

_A/N: How did you like it? Please comment:)_


	2. Chapter 2

Harry did not like the maniacal glint he saw in the older man's eyes. It forebode something terrible. If only he could get up into his room before his uncle could lay his hands on him, he would be safe. After all, the doctor had recommended that Harry stay off his feet since he had trouble moving around, and Uncle Vernon would not want Harry to obstruct him around the house. So he would leave Harry alone, right? Harry somehow doubted it.

"Get your ass out of the car, boy?" Vernon spat as he pulled into the driveway. "Don't expect us to treat you like a king after you caused that accident. I suffered a concussion because of that, because of you." He snarled in a low whisper. Evidently, he didn't want to draw the neighbours' attention to him mistreating his nephew.

Harry got out off the car with great difficulty, leaning heavily against the side of the car and hobbling slowly until he managed to get his crutches out of the trunk.

"Hurry up, boy," Vernon barked. "Wait till I get my hands on you..." He glanced around furtively, as though willing Harry to go faster so that he could torture him once in the house.

Harry hobbled faster, dread growing in his heart. The small clicks of his crutches echoing on the gravel seemed unusually loud as he willed himself to move faster. He would not escape a torture session today. His arms ached from the exertion since he was still unused to the crutches. He nearly fell as his crutches hit a protruding kerb, but managed to steady himself in time. Too scared to look back at his uncle, he continued forward until he entered the house.

The click of the doorknob as Vernon locked the door sounded ominous. Harry stood there, breathing heavily and shallowly as Vernon rounded on him. "You," a fat beefy finger came prodding Harry hard in the chest, causing him to stumble backwards. Thankfully there was a wall behind him, preventing him from falling. "You idiot boy."

Harry felt hands pushing him down. He fell heavily on his bum, and instinctively backed away. _Shit, he struck a corner. He was trapped. Trapped with this monster._

Harry looked around the house. Aunt Petunia and Dudley did not seem to be at home. That left Vernon to... to do whatever he wanted. Harry swallowed, terrified eyes looking back up into the fuming ones of his uncle.

_Crack_. Harry felt his ribs crack as Vernon kicked him hard in the side. Harry groaned, his breaths coming in short gasps. He felt his head being pulled upwards by his hair and tiled back. As he opened his eyes, he was staring straight into Vernon's angry face. Harry writhed, trying to get away, but only succeeded in getting his uncle to grab on more tightly. Tears welled up behind close lids as Harry struggled futilely.

Harry felt himself being lifted up from the ground roughly before being thrown against the far end of the room. He slammed against the wall, his broken foot screaming in pain. He stifled a pain-filled sob, knowing it would only serve to anger Uncle Vernon further. He lay there, unable to move, pain shooting through his body.

Minutes ticked by and Harry heard nothing. Uncle Vernon seemed to have left. Harry gingerly sat up and opened his eyes. _Smack!_ A beefy fist collided with Harry's face, slamming his head against the wall. Harry gasped in pain, and blinked rapidly to get rid of the bright spots obscuring his vision. Oh God, please let this stop soon, please please...

Harry could not stifle a small scream as his body crashed against the wall again as Vernon gave him a final hard kick. He watched Uncle Vernon walk away, satisfied with his daily work. A dry sob wracked Harry's body as he tried to absorb the pain coursing through his body. He never thought that Vernon would injure him this badly. After all, he had never been this angry before.

* * *

Harry was left to recover on his own for a week without anyone talking to or feeding him in his room. After that terrible ordeal the day he had returned from the checkup, Harry had pulled himself agonisingly up the stairs and onto his bed, only to lie there, exhausted, bloody and in pain, and had fallen into a pain-filled sleep moments later. He had grown steadily weaker and weaker from the lack of food and attention to his injuries. He was too weak even to get up to relieve himself, and every time he felt an acute pain shoot through him, he threw up.

A week later, Vernon entered Harry's room, wrinkling his nose from the stench. Harry was too weak to open his eyes, but he knew he was in for a bad time. He could smell alcohol on his uncle's breath.

Harry felt his hands being handcuffed to the metal railings of the bed. He struggled weakly, but was no match for his uncle. A fat finger trailed itself down Harry's cheek, causing him to shudder. A pair of hands forced Harry's mouth opened and stuffed a wad of cloth in, gagging the boy. Harry choked, gasping frantically as he shook his head desperately from side to side.

The hulking form of his uncle loomed above him. He stood beside Harry, cupping his chin, forcing Harry to look up at him. Green terrified eyes stared up at Vernon. A grin split his uncle's face into a smile. Harry's heart started to pound. Whatever his uncle had got planned, it certainly wasn't good. His breathing grew harsh and panicked.

A hand reached down to Harry's pants, pulling it down. Harry squeezed his eyes closed. No, his uncle wasn't, couldn't be doing this, could he? He was only a boy, he couldn't...

A hand started caressing Harry's private parts, causing Harry to writh uncomfortably, tears dripping down his cheeks.

"Stop it, boy," snapped Vernon, dealing Harry a stinging slap across the face. Harry held back a dry sob, biting his lip.

Suddenly, Vernon was inside him. Oh, the pain, the pain was unbearable. It was terrible and Harry's hands were clenched into fists to keep him from crying out from the pain and horror. As soon as it had begun, it ended, and Vernon left the room, satisfied.

Broken, Harry curled up painfully into a ball, sobbing.


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

It was a living hell, not being able to die nor live. Vernon kept him from starving himself to death by forcing food down his throat every time Vernon wanted to play his little game. "It wouldn't do any good for you to die and _those people_ to find out, would it?" he had said. 

Harry hated those force-feeding sessions. The first time it had happened, Harry had been too shocked to resist. He had felt his head being yanked up roughly and tilted upwards until he was looking his uncle in the eye. Harry had cowered at that anger he saw in his uncle's eyes.

"Trying to commit suicide, boy?" he had snarled. "I won't let you die, not that easily." With that, he had taken the bowl of stale rice and stuffed Harry's mouth full.

Harry had choked and coughed until his eyes watered. Rice spewed everywhere, causing Vernon to scowl darkly. He had taken the small boy by the shoulders and shaken him, hard. Harry had been forced to swallow.

Even after he had swallowed the rice, Vernon spared him no mercy. He had poured cold soup down Harry's throat. Some, of course, spilled over onto his shirt and the bedsheets, wetting them.

Harry's stomach, not being able to take so much food after having not eaten for so long, rejected the food violently. Moments after Harry had swallowed, the food came rushing back up, causing hiim to retch violently over the side of the bed.

This frustrated Vernon to no end. Angered, he would slap Harry hard, then grabbing him by his hair, bang his head against the wall. "It was to knock all the abnormality out of him." Vernon had yelled. When Harry collapsed onto the floor, chest heaving with dry sobs, Vernon would kick him repeatedly in the stomach and ribs, causing Harry to throw up again, often blood. There were times when Harry heard his ribs crack and felt a sharp pain travel through his broken body.

The sessions did not end here, but instead continued with Vernon's rape sessions.

* * *

It was sheer hell. Harry lost track of days and night, having spent most of his time unconscious or being tortured. All he could hope was that school would reopen soon. 

But he couldn't tell anyone, anyone at all, what had happened during the holidays. They would just think he was dirty, and weak. He was Harry Potter, a wizard, but yet he could not protect himself against a stupid Muggle. They would just look down on him. After all, Vernon had said he was a good-for-nothing whore, he was worthless, no one would want him, right?

Only at Hogwarts, he would be able to put on glamour spells to cover up his scars. Only then, could he escape this living hell.

* * *

"Wake up, boy, you lazy bum," came a snarl. Harry opened his right eye, his left eye was swollen shut. It was Uncle Vernon looming over him. "I need to take you to the train station, pack your belongings now. I want to see you downstairs in 10 minutes." 

Harry's heart soared. He was going back to Hogwarts! With great difficulty, he got out the bed, pain piercing through every particle of his being. He hurriedly flung all his belongings into his trunk and lugged it down the stairs, where his uncle was waiting for him.

Silently, he climbed into his car, stifling a gasp as pain flared in his chest. The ride to the train station was quiet, with Harry too afraid to make a sound. He was afraid Vernon would not keep him at home and forbid him from going back to Hogwarts. Vernon did not look at Harry at all, but instead kept his eyes on the road.

Once he was on the platform, Vernon simply waited in the car while Harry alighted and got his trunk out. As soon as Harry got it out, Vernon hurriedly drove off, not bothering to look back.

Gladly, Harry headed towards the barrier, head bowed to prevent any one from recognising him. He passed by the Weasleys and the Grangers, but thankfully no one noticed nor recognised him. At least with his small stature, he could pass off as a Year 1 student.

He managed to pass through the barrier safely. Sighing in relief, he hastily cast a glamour charm on himself. Checking himself in a train window, he was relieved to see that he looked normal.

"Harry!" Came a voice from behind. Hermione. Harry turned around, plastering a fake smile on his face.

"How was your summer? Oh, and how come I never saw you cross the barrier?" Hermione chirpily asked.

"Oh, it was fine. I got here really early since my uncle had to rush off somewhere." Harry lied easily.

"Harry!" Harry spun around, biting his lip as his pain shot through his leg. Ron, and his brothers. They were tanned and if possible, more freckled than ever. "How are you, mate?" Ron said, clapping Harry on the shoulder.

Harry gasped as Ron opened up an old wound. He just hoped it wouldn't start bleeding. He didn't need questions, not now.

"What's wrong, Harry?" Hermione asked, concerned. Harry's sharp intake of breath had not missed her eye.

"Oh, um, I just realised I haven't done my Potions homework," Harry quickly covered up. "Snape is going to kill me." It was partly true in fact, he had been too weak to touch any of his school books. He was just grateful that they did not need any new books this year.

"Harry! How could you?" Hermione cried, horrified. "Well, you had better work on it this evening, or Gryffindor will be having negative house points now."

Harry nodded, rolling his eyes playfully.

Finally, they got onto the train, and Harry settled himself comfortably on one of the seats, careful not to jolt any of his injuries.

They were chatting happily two hours into the train journey when the door to their carriage burst open.

"Potter," the blond spat.

"Malfoy," Harry returned, getting up from his seat, wand at the ready.

"Gotten into any trouble yet? I bet Slytherin will win the House Cup AND the Quidditch Cup this year, what with all of your trouble-making and deduction of house points," Malfoy smirked.

"Shut up, Malfoy, or has your father not taught you any manners?" Ron was red in the face.

Without warning, Malfoy shot a blasting curse at Harry. Harry, whose reflexes were still slow from his injuries, could not get out of the way, and crashed into the end of the carriage, knocking him unconscious.

"Harry!" came Ron and Hermione's cries in unison. Ron looked up at Malfoy, face burning in anger.

"You'll pay for this, Malfoy," he spat. Hermione looked up, shaking her head slightly at Ron. She did not want to create any more trouble. Harry was already unconscious and was the first priority.

She looked up at the blond, an angry glint in her eye. To her surprise, there was a hint of a foreign emotion on the Malfoy's face. Concern, was it? But in a flash, it was gone as Malfoy caught her gaze.

Hermione stared at him, Malfoy stared back, a defiant gaze, challenging her. A moment passed before Malfoy turned on his heel and strutted off, his two cronies following behind him.

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, Hermione turned back to her fallen friend. Harry still had not regained consciousness, but instead seemed to be in a deep sleep.

Gently, Ron and Hermione carried Harry onto one of the seats, resting his head on Hermione's lap and waited for him to wake up.

An hour passed before Harry blinked into existence. "You're awake!" Hermione whispered, stroking his hair away from his face.

Harry nodded, struggling to sit up, feeling gentle hands helping him.

"Are you alright, mate?" Came the concerned question from Ron. "You've been out a full hour since Malfoy hit you with that blasting curse!"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Harry croaked, smiling gratefully as Hermione handed him a glass of pumpkin juice. It was soothing to his dry throat.

The rest of the journey passed in peace as the three friends caught up with each other.

* * *

Harry had never felt so glad to be back in Hogwarts, his home. As he gazed up at the magestic castle, he sighed. He was free from his uncle at last, and no one, no one need ever know what had happened. Time would heal those wounds.

Ron and Hermione were chatting beside him, leaving him alone in his own thoughts.

It wasn't long before the trio were in the Great Hall, waiting for the Year 1 pupils to be sorted. Harry wriggled in his seat nervously. He didn't like being in the crowd. It made him feel enclosed and surrounded.

He closed his eyes, trying to stabilize his breathing. He gripped the table to stop his hands from shaking.

"Are you okay, Harry?" Hermione questioned.

He nodded, breathing shallowly.

At last, the first years were sorted. Harry simply hoped that dinner would pass quickly, so that he could get back to their dorms.

"The start of a new year," Dumbledore had spoken. Harry's heart sank. He hoped the speech would be short. "I believe all of you are hungry, so I shall make this short." Yes, come on. "So, why don't we sing the school song!"

His suggestion was met with a flurry of applause as everyone stood up. Dumbledore waved his hands about as though conducting a band and the school rose in song.

Harry stood up shakily. He didn't like the throngs of people. He didn't like them at all. They were closing in on him, like Uncle Vernon, waiting to strike him when he was at his weakest.

_Stupid boy, worthless, good-for-nothing. Whore, that's all you are..._

Harry's breath hitched in his throat. It was becoming more and more difficult to breathe. His skin felt clammy, and he couldn't stop himself from shivering. The school song seemed miles away, he couldn't remember anything. All he could hear was his own ragged breathing, getting shallower and shallower. The edges of his vision were fading to black. He blinked, gripping his hands together tightly, trying to keep himself grounded.

Someone beside him shifted, moving closer to him. _Run away! He's back to get you! _Harry's mind screamed. Harry couldn't control his breathing anymore.

He felt himself fall, fall until everything faded to black.

* * *

_More coming up soon!_


	4. Chapter 4

There was a loud thunk as Harry fainted. Heads turned towards the Gryffindor table, curious as to what had happened.

Shocked murmuring arose in the crowd nearest to Harry's fallen form once they realised who it was. Ron and Hermione were crouched by Harry's side immediately, worried frowns creasing their faces.

Hermione was shaking Harry's shoulder lightly, trying to wake him up. Harry simply stayed unresponsive, eyes closed, breathing shallowly.

Ron, on the other hand, was slapping Harry's face lightly, but Harry did not respond, his breathing instead grew shallower and more panicked. As he looked towards the staff table, he saw Dumbledore lean towards Snape. McGonagall was already halfway out of her seat, ready to check on the student. Snape was scowling. Ron guessed the Headmaster had wanted Snape to assist McGonagall, but being Slytherin, that greasy git was reluctant to render any assistance to any Gryffindor. As always, Dumbledore won the argument, and Snape got up from his seat, scowling darkly and muttering.

The pair of professors strode swiftly down the aisle between the tables towards Harry, McGonagall giving a startled gasp as she realised who it was. Ron caught Snape's eye as he bent down to check on Harry's pulse. There was a flicker of concern in his eyes, was it? But a moment later, it was gone as Snape looked away.

"Hospital Wing, now," came Snape's curt order. Ron and Hermione made to follow, but stopped as Snape said, "Weasley and Granger, both of you can stay here. Potter will be fine."

McGonagell levitated Harry's unconscious form onto a floating stretcher and allowed it to float before as she exited the Great Hall with Snape behind her, robes billowing behind him.

Murmurs erupted across the Hall as everyone took in the frail and weak form of Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived. Everyone had seen his lifeless, lolling head as he had been levitated onto the stretcher. Even Dumbledore was worried. Something was definitely wrong for Harry to collapse in the Hall just like that. Very wrong, and Dumbledore would find out what.

* * *

Severus was puzzled. Potter would never allow himself to collapse just like that in front of the entire Hall, no, his pride was worth more than anything. But even if anything had happened, Potter wouldn't tell anyone. Stupid Gryffindor courage.

But he seems so weak, Severus thought, looking down at the limp form on the stretcher. Harry's breathing had not eased, and was as tense as ever. There was a strange rattle as Harry breathed, like he had difficulty breathing. He had lost weight too, Severus observed. From afar, Harry had seemed fine, but now looking at him upclose and intently, something had changed about the Gryffindor. He no longer slept peacefully, and even in unconsciousness, there was a grimace on his face.

No, Severus hurriedly stopped himself. Why should he care about the boy? He had hated that Potter boy for years, so why should he stop now? It wouldn't do for Severus Snape to get soft. No, it wouldn't.

Severus was broken out of his thoughts as they reached the Hospital Wing. Poppy rushed out to meet them, having been informed by the Headmaster, by one of his 'mysterious ways' Severus supposed.

"Here, place him here," Poppy directed them to a bed at the far end before pulling the sheets down. Severus, plastering on a scowl, lifted Harry gently and placed him on the bed.

"What happened, Minerva?" Poppy asked as she waved her wand over Harry's body.

"I don't know, really, it was during the school song, then suddenly he collapsed, just fainted, like that." McGonagall had a bewildered expression on her face. For the life of her, she couldn't explain why her student, Harry Potter no less, had suddenly collapsed.

"What's wrong, Poppy?" Severus, as usual, as direct and straight to the point. He had seen the mediwitch frowning.

"He's in a lot of pain, but the problem is that I don't know where. He's having trouble breathing, and seems panicky," Poppy seemed to be at a loss.

Severus, having learnt the basics of healing stepped to the side of the bed. More gently than it looked, he loosened the Gryffindor's tie and pulled his shirt open. The skin was smooth, flawless.

"There's seems to be nothing wrong," Minerva commented.

Snape rolled his eyes. "Glamour charms, perhaps?" he said sarcastically. With a swish of his wand, he removed whatever glamour charms Harry had put in place. Even years of torture had not prepared Severus for the sight that met his eyes. Both witches behind him gasped as they took in the sight.

Harry's body was a mass of cuts and bruises, some yellow, some darkening. There were uneven ridges where broken ribs jutted out. However, the most shocking of all was the dark purple hand-shaped bruise around Harry's neck. Someone had tried to strangle him.

Severus felt himself boil with rage. No child, not even his most hated student, deserved this. He had experienced some abuse as a child, but never this bad. He was just worried about Potter's psychological health.

Minerva and Poppy were speechless. Minerva reached out a cautious trembling hand and fingered a jutting bone from Harry's arm. Harry jerked away unconsciously, his breathing growing more erratic. Minerva bit her lip, struggling not to cry at the sight before her.

The poor boy! No one would ever understand what he had gone through. It would take a lot for him to get over this, she knew. But who had done this? Harry stayed with his relatives for the summer. They would not have done this to a poor child, would they? Would they? But Albus would have known, he would not have left Harry somewhere where he was unsafe!

Severus took in the flinch by the unconscious boy quietly. This was bad. Who knows what else the boy suffered over the summer?

His thoughts were interrupted by the creak of door opening softly. All heads looked up. It was the Headmaster.

"How is he, Poppy?"

Poppy stepped aside, too shaken to say anything. Dumbledore took in the sight gravely, the usual twinkle in his eyes now gone, replaced by an icy fury.

"It's not all, watch this," Minerva said softly. She placed a finger on Harry's bruised throat, but Harry's reaction to that far exceeded their expectations. Harry's body arched upwards as he gasped for breath. He started coughing uncontrollably, head shaking frantically from side to side.

"No, don't, please," the boy gasped. His hand flew up to grab his heaving chest. It seemed as though he was choking, unable to breathe. His eyes flew open, glazed and unseeing. Terror was evident in them.

"Hold him down, now," the mediwitch ordered. Hands rushed to obey orders. She herself grabbed a potion off the nearby shelf and hurried over, lifting the boy's head and resting on her shoulder.

"Harry, Harry, listen to me," she said sharply. He didn't seem to be able to hear her, but instead continued to cough, big hacking coughs. "I need you to take this." She lifted the vial to his lips, pouring some into his mouth, some potion spilling over, wetting the sheets.

She clamped his mouth shut, and Harry swallowed convulsively, almost choking in the process. Tense moments passed before the potion took effect and Harry's coughs subsided.

Poppy's hands never stopped working though. She hurried around the Infirmary, grabbing tubes and inserting them into Harry's nose and mouth. "Cardiac arrest arising from shock and panic attack." She had stated curtly, before finding a vein in Harry's arm and injecting a green potion into his system.

The other professors were too shocked to speak. Harry's condition was serious, very serious.

* * *

Meanwhile, the feast had ended and everyone had retired to their common rooms. The Gryffindors, however, were beside themselves with worry for their friend. Ron and Hermione were sitting in a corner, subdued. All the conversations were hushed, not wanting to upset the two even further, each person coming up with various theories for Harry's health.

Something was wrong with Harry, that was for sure, Hermione had felt it since the day school had let out. Harry had seemed distant and reluctant to return home somehow, but had brushed it off. It had been nagging at her then, but she had dismissed it, preferring to take Harry's word.

Even on the train, Harry had seemed very wary of his surroundings, too wary in fact. He had become jumpy at sudden noises and flinched at touches, even though he had tried to suppress it.

Ron wouldn't have noticed, he was always too caught up in other stuff. But Hermione was sure something had happened over the summer. She had seen this kind of symptoms before, but it couldn't be, could it? Harry's relatives would never treat him this way. She never they never liked him, but they wouldn't do that to a child... right?

She wrung her hands together in her lap. Ron was simply sitting beside her quietly. Snape didn't let them follow, that stupid git.

"Ronald," came a soft voice beside him. Ron looked up. Hermione. "I want to see how Harry is, tonight." Ron looked at her in surprise. Hermione Granger, breaking rules? That was news. But he nodded grimly. If the situation hadn't been so tense, it would have been funny. But concern for their friend was first and foremost in their minds.

Midnight finally came, and soon the two were the only ones left in the common room, seeing that the rest had retired to their dormitories. Quietly, they snuck out of the common room and padded softly towards the Hospital Wing.

Moonlight filtered in from the window, bathing Harry in a soft glow. The duo crept in, spying Harry on the last bed, and approached him quietly. They had to stifle gasps as they took in Harry's appearance. Bruises still littered his bare torso and limbs. Only with his clothes off did they realised how thin their friend had become over the summer. He was practically a living skeleton. His ribs were too obvious and his pale skin was stretched over him, almost translucent.

Tubes snaked out from Harry's nose and mouth, evidently helping him to breath. His chest rose shallowly with every breath, and the creased forehead told them that their friend was in evident pain, either from his injuries or from his breathing difficulty, they didn't know. A small patch had been stuck on his chest, probably to monitor his heartbeat.

Hermione fingered Harry's limp hand, trailing her fingers onto his wrist, where he was connected to a drip.

Tears ran unchecked down her cheeks. Harry, poor Harry. There was no doubt in her mind who had done this to her friend. And all this time, he hadn't said anything. And now her friend was lying here, unconscious, and so weak, even relying on a tube to help him breathe.

Ron stood there, stunned. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined his friend to be this ill. "Mione, how..." he whispered.

"The Dursleys, Ron, they- they abused him." Hermione dissolved into tears on Ron's shoulder. Ron could not think properly, it was as though his mind was frozen. Harry, abused? He thought these kinds of things only happened in books.

"No...they couldn't have..." Ron stammered out.

"Perhaps we should discuss this in my office?" came a soft voice behind them. The duo whirled around and came face to face with their headmaster. There was a sad look in his eyes as his gaze fell on Harry's still unconscious form.

* * *

Minutes later, they were in the Headmaster's Office, drinking tea.

"Professor," Hermione began shakily. "Harry never mentioned this to us. We would have helped him!"

"Harry would never admit that he was being abused unless he was in dire need of aid. You know him." Hermione nodded sadly. "When Harry wakes, I request you not to let him know that you have discovered his being abused. I'm sure he has his reasons for not confiding in you, and he needs time, space, to recover. He will tell you when he is ready."

Ron opened his mouth to protest, but seeing sense, nodded slightly.

"But, why did they do this to him?" Ron blurted out.

"My guess is that they never liked the fact that he was a wizard, abnormal in their eyes. And so whenever something went wrong, it was easy for them to blame it on Harry. You see, how simple it is to blame things that they can't explain on magic? This is enough for tonight, I think, I trust that you will not go around spreading the extent of Harry's injuries to your classmates and friends?"

"Of course not!" said Ron indignantly. Hermione nodded vehemently in accordance.

Dumbledore smiled. "I'm glad Harry has such good friends as both of you."

* * *

_So... how do you like it? Go review and tell me!_


	5. Chapter 5

Harry awoke to someone changing his bandages.With great difficulty, he opened his eyes, squinting from the bright sunlight filtering through the neraby window.

"Oh Harry dear! You're awake!" exclaimed Madame Pomfrey from the foot of the bed where she had been checking on Harry's injured foot. Harry opened his mouth to reply, but found that he could not, seeing that he was still reliant on tubes to breathe. His body was aching terribly, and his head was pounding, as though he had been run over by a stampede of Hippogriffs.

The Headmaster came over, eyes twinkling merrily now that Harry was awake. "How are you feeling, my dear boy?" Not expecting a response, he continued. "Would you like your friends to visit you?" he asked. "I'm sure Ms Granger and Mr Weasley would want to know you have regained consciousness."

Oh God, do they know? Harry thought anxiously. I have injuries and scars all over my body, if Ron and Hermione see them... Harry did not want to think further, his heart sinking.

Dumbledore saw the look of dread on the boy's face and knew instantly what was going through the boy's mind. It was evident that he did not want anyone to know of what he had been through, preferring instead to hide it. Dumbledore would not force him, he needed time to recover before he was willing to open up. He was glad he had thought to brief his staff not to mention any of their newly-acquired knowledge of the abuse to Harry, lest he closed in upon himself even more tightly.

"Mr Potter is still weak, and it definitely would not do to have two over-excited teenagers clinging on to him now." Poppy said sharply, saving Harry from answering.

Albus agreed readily. "I'll get Professor Snape in to take a look at you, shall we?" He asked kindly. Upon seeing the look of horror on Harry's face, he continued, smiling amusedly. "You were seriously injured when you came here, and according to Professor Snape, your immune system took a bashing. So he has decided to take over the care of your physical health upon himself. He has been busy these few days you have been out, making potions to help you, researching -"

"I'm here, Albus, and stop making me sound soft." came a sharp retort from the door.

"Ah, Severus. Young Harry here has woken up."

"Yes, I can see that." came the sarcastic reply as the menacing figure of the Potions Master drew nearer.

"How are you feeling, Potter? Any pain?" he asked. If one didn't know better, one could say there was a tinge of concern in his voice. Dumbledore's eyes simply twinkling even more brightly.

Harry was too shocked at Snape treating him decently that he simply stared at his professor in shock.

"Have your injuries affected your brain? Blink once if you are feeling uncomfortable, twice if you are not." Snape snapped, an annoyed expression on his face.

Harry blinked twice.

"How are you feeling?"

Harry mouthed fine.

"Don't lie to me, Potter, stop it with your stupid Gryffindor bravado. I don't need it."

Harry cringed involuntarily at the harsh use of his last name. Snape regretted it immediately. Turning away to avoid showing his emotions, he took out a few vials of potions and started measuring them out in a syringe.

Harry eyed the syringe warily. He didn't trust Snape, not yet.

"You don't have to look at me in this way. I'm not trying to poison you. If I had wanted to, I would have done so when you were still unconscious, would have saved me a great deal of effort and breath." Snape said, annoyed.

Harry looked away embarrasedly. He flinched as Snape took hold of his arm and winced a little as the needle entered his body. The warm rush of the foreign liquid entering his system made his stomach queasy.

"Iive just given you a blood replenishing potion, a sedative and a painkiller in that mixture. When you are stronger, we need to work on boosting your immune system." Snape said, still avoiding Harry's gaze. With that, he stood up abruptly and left, robes billowing behind him.

The Headmaster pulled the sheets up to Harry's neck and smoothed the hair off his forehead. Patting him gently on the arm, he turned and left behind the Potions Master.

I can't tell them what happened over the summer. No one must know... Harry thought. He was too tired to think further, the potions having already taken their effect on him. He felt his eyelids grow heavier and heavier until the world finally faded to darkness.

* * *

Two days passed, and Harry steadily grew better. He was now able to put glamour charms to hide the worst of his injuries since he had mostly recovered. He was still weak though, and required some help to sit up in bed or move around. 

Ron and Hermione had come to visit him, and it was clear, from their worried expressions that they had not lived in peace for the past two days.

"Harry! We were so worried about you..." Hermione had exclaimed.

"I'm sorry." Harry muttered automatically, eyes downcast.

"Don't worry about it, mate. Not like you got yourself hurt on purpose." Ron joked, cracking a weak smile.

Harry could tell they were dying to know how he had gotten himself injured, but could not bring himself to tell them the truth. "Oh um, I got injured when I fought with Dudley."

Ron and Hermione stared at him skeptically, and Harry was thankful he had thought to place glamour charms on himself before they came. They hid most of his injuries, especially the deeper ones, leaving only the superficial wounds visible.

"Don't worry about me, I punched him too." Harry added, to even out the imaginary score.

"As long as you're alright, Harry," Hermione said, lightly touching his arm. Harry jerked his arm away involuntarily, hating himself as he did so. Hermione looked down at him sadly, but thankfully he did not see since he had been staring down at his sheets.

"We'll see you around then," Ron said tentatively.

"Yeah," Hermione put in. "Madame Pomfrey says you can be discharged tomorrow, as long as you don't exert yourself." Harry grinned back at them.

As they left, Harry was left to his own thoughts. He knew he could not tell his friends about his summer, not yet anyway. They wouldn't be able to understand, nor accept it.

The next day came quickly, and Harry was escorted by Ron and Hermione back into the Gryffindor dormitories. They walked slowly, allowing Harry to keep up with them on his crutches. His bad ankle had not been able to heal properly over the summer, and thus Harry still had to use crutches to allow it to recover.

Harry, embarrassed that his friends were deliberately slowing down because of him, tried to go faster. It left his still weak body breathless and he was soon coughing. Worried, Hermione made him stop to catch his breath, patting his gently on his back.

Harry tensed at her touch, still unable to get used to people touching him. Hermione felt it too, and withdrew her hand sadly. "It's alright Harry. Take your time. We don't mind waiting for you."

Harry's face burned, determinedly avoiding her gaze.

They were soon back in the dormitories, where they helped Harry into bed and gave him his medication. Madame Pomfrey had ordered him to stay in bed today, only allowing him to resume his classes the next day.

Ron and Hermione, having been excused from class, stayed by Harry's side as he fell asleep. They knew Harry needed their support now. It stayed this way the entire afternoon, Harry dozing, Ron and Hermione holding one of his hands each, which reading through their textbooks.

Dinner time came quickly and they roused Harry to go down the the Great Hall for dinner. Harry hesitated, uncertain and afraid to face the taunts he was sure would come from his collapse.

Hermione, knowing what he was thinking, squeezed his hand comfortingly. Harry smiled wanly back at her.

"Gonna faint on us again Potter?" came jeers and taunts from the Slytherin table. Harry was surprised to see Malfoy not taking part in the taunting, instead staring at him concernedly. As Harry met his gaze, he immediately looked away, his expression instantly changing to one of cold indifference.

Ron stared at the Slytherins defensively while Hermione helped Harry over to the Gryffindor table. Harry smiled weakly at his fellow housemates as they asked about his health, often giving vague and evasive answers.

Hermione piled food on Harry's plate, but Harry simply could not force them down. He was uncomfortable, surrounded by so many people. Besides, his stomach, shrunken due to the starvation over the summer, could not take so much food. He would simply throw them all out again.

"Harry, you have to eat," Ron reminded his friend.

Harry shook his head. "No appetite."

"Harry, stop protesting and eat. You have to get your strength back."

"Oh." Harry stopped at the annoyed tone in Ron's voice. "I'm sorry. I didn't realise I was annoying you. I-I didn't mean it, really, I didn't, don't get angry." He picked up his fork and forced some mashed potato into his mouth. He looked down at his lap, hands wringing nervously.

"Harry, don't. I'm not angry, I just wanted you to recover more quickly." Ron said, tone much gentler now. He exchanged concerned looks with Hermione. This was not like Harry at all. The old Harry was never this insecure. He would have come up with some sarcastic reply, not apologise profusely.

Harry still refused to meet Ron's gaze. "I'm sorry." He said softly.

"Don't be, Harry." Hermione insisted. "It's fine. Just eat whatever you feel comfortable with."

Harry nodded slightly, hands still fidgetting nervously in his lap.

From the Staff Table, two pairs of eyes monitored Harry's movements. Severus knew something was wrong. The events over the summer must have affected Harry a lot more than it appeared. Harry seemed very jumpy around his friends, flinching whenever someone came into contact with him. He was also very nervous, stammering and refusing to look his friends in their eyes.

Severus met the gaze of Draco Malfoy, his godson. He gave Draco a meaningful look, indicating that he should come down to Severus' quarters after dinner. Draco nodded slightly before turning away to his friends once more.

"Concerned, Severus?" came the voice of Albus Dumbledore to his right. Severus scowled. "Yes, Harry is not himself today. Give him some time." Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling.

Annoyed, Severus scowled even more darkly. "I don't care about the boy, Albus."

"Sometimes our hearts say otherwise," Albus replied cryptically, smiling. Severus simply rolled his eyes.

* * *

"You wanted to see me, Sev?" Draco asked as he entered his godfather's quarters. 

Draco had been disowned by his family earlier that summer for refusing to take the Dark Mark. With nowhere to go, Severus Snape had taken him in and cared for him. Draco was much happier now.

"Yes, come in and take a seat. I'm be with you in a minute." Severus replied, never taking his eyes off the script he was grading. "Excellent essay, by the way. Good work."

"Of course," Draco smirked, but inwardly feeling pleased. It had been a long time since he had been praised. When he had been living with his father, he was always blamed for every single little thing that went wrong. He was often beaten or whipped when he disobeyed orders. The night that he had been disowned had been the worst night in his memory.

_"How dare you disobey me, you insolent brat? Kneel in front of your master," Lucius barked._

_"No." Draco stood facing him, adamantly refusing to kneel. "I will not join your ranks as a Deatheater, bowing and kneeling, always subservient."_

_"How noble, my dragon," hissed Voldemort. He caressed Draco's face with a long thin finger, making him shudder. "Lucius, how dare your son disobey me?"_

_"He is no son of mine." Came the cold words._

_Draco gazed up at his father in disbelief, tears welling up in his eyes. Lucius stared coldy back at him, expressionless._

_"Then I have no further use for you. We shall just use you as... a toy. You can practice on him. When you are done, you may do whatever you want with him." Voldemort instructed before leaving._

_That night had been full of horror. Draco had been placed under the Cruciatus curse countless of times, mostly by his father, furious at Draco for embarrassing him in front of the Dark Lord._

_Draco had screamed his throat raw, and the torture session had left him trembling and sobbing. After that, Lucius had turned Draco out of the house, unable to face killing his own son._

_Draco had then gone to Severus, where Severus had taken him in._

"Thinking about the past?"

Draco looked up into his godfather's eyes. He nodded slightly. Severus' gaze softened. He knew how much the blonde had gone through. This was why he had asked for Draco tonight. He hoped Draco would be able to help Harry.

Sitting down beside Draco, Severus pulled the blonde closer to him.

"The reason why you asked me here today... It's about Potter, isn't it?" Draco asked.

Severus nodded. "He has been through a great deal, Draco, and I think both of you will be able to understand each other."

Draco paused. "But I can't help him right now, he doesn't trust me. I was stupid before."

"Try not to provoke him for now. He's not ready." Severus said at last. He hoped that at least Potter would not have to face the Slytherins.

Draco agreed and left a short while later, leaving Severus to his thoughts.

Why am I so concerned about him? He's just Potter, so what if he has had a less than perfect childhood. That is no reason for me to be coddling him. Severus thought fiercely. Get a grip on yourself, Severus. You really are getting soft.

* * *

Harry sat quietly in the Gryffindor common room, lost in his thoughts. The others were working talking quietly, not wanting to disturb him. 

Ron snuck a look at him and quickly turned back to Hermione.

"He's acting oddly," Ron whispered.

"I know, but we can't say anything to him. If you breathe a word to him, Ronald..." Hermione trailed off, glaring menacingly at Ron. Ron quailed under her stare.

"Okay, okay, fine. I won't tell him, but he has to talk sooner or later."

"I know," came the quiet answer, resigned and helpless.

It soon grew late and Ron helped Harry upstairs.

"Night, Harry," Ron murmured sleepily.

"Night." Harry replied, staring fixatedly at the candle burning on the wall. He had refused to close his curtains completely.

Harry had not told the others, but he was afraid of the dark. The dark was when everything was unknown. Danger could be looming, sneaking up on you unnoticed. Harry felt blind and lost in the dark. It hadn't affected him that greatly when he was in the Hospital Wing as he had mostly been in a magically-induced sleep, but now he had been taken off the Sleeping Potions, he was beginning to feel his fear of the dark again.

His heart was pumping fast as Harry lay down and tried to sleep. A time and again, his eyelids would spring open at the slightest noise or squeak. His breath would hitch and he would grab the covers, afraid that something would attack him. After five minutes without anything happening, Harry would release his hold on the covers and try to relax, only to have the entire cycle repeat itself ten minutes later.

Soon, Harry was able to fall into a restless slumber.

_He was back at the Dursleys and Vernon Dursley was standing over him, a dangerous glint in his eyes. _

_Harry was on the floor cowering._

_"You freak, you idiot boy, you good-for-nothing," Vernon Dursley stormed, picking the boy up by his hair._

_"I'm not," Harry protested. "My friends, my godfather, they love me!" He protested desperately, willing himself not to believe his uncle's words._

_"Once they know how hard it is to live with you, they will think exactly as I do, you are a burden!"_

_Harry pressed himself against the wall, eyes wide in terror. His uncle stepped closer to him, so close until he could feel his uncle's hot breath on his face. Harry tried to turn away, but a beefy hand reached up and turned his chin sharply, forcing Harry to look into his uncle's eyes._

_"I hate you. And once they learn of how pathetic you are, they'll hate you too." He growled._

_Harry blinked back tears._

_His uncle was touching him. It felt terrible. Harry felt his clothes being stripped off him and flung aside, leaving him shivering on the cold kitchen floor. _

_There were hands, hands touching him everywhere. Harry writhed. The hands were terrible, they were violating him! _

_His uncle was on top of him, forcing open his legs..._

"No!" Harry snapped awake with a cry.

Sickened by the hands, he turned on his side and threw up violently on the floor.

After a few dry heaves, he turned back. His gaze fell on his friends. They were all looking at him concernedly, Ron being the most worried.

"Are you alright, mate? You were screaming and muttering 'No' over and over again in your sleep. We couldn't wake you. You only thrashed about more," Ron asked him, smoothing sweaty hair off Harry's forehead.

Harry flinched instinctively. "I'm fine." He muttered, turning away.

The others didn't move. "What?" He asked, looking up at his dorm mates. "Why are you all looking at me oddly?"

"Well, Harry, you were acting oddly in your sleep. You were clutching the waistband of your pants, and you were crying..." Nevile trailed off uncertainly.

"I'm fine." Harry snapped. Automatically, he raised his hand to his cheek to find wetness there. Embarrassed, he hastily brushed the tears off and turned away.

Nothing was said for an awkward five minutes before Harry heard the rustle of clothes, indicating that the others had decided to go back to sleep.

Harry lay in the dark for a long while, taking comfort in the flickering candlelight visible from the gap in the curtains. He didn't dare to go back to sleep. He didn't want to face those dreams again.

The next morning, he pretended to wake up along with the others. The others dared not bring up his nightmare again, but instead settled on asking Harry how he was. Harry pretended to have had a great sleep and smiled along with his dorm mates.

"What happened, Harry?" came the anxious voice of Hermione as Harry stepped into the common room. "I heard from Ron that you had a horrible nightmare, and that you were sick afterwards -"

"I'm fine." Harry brushed his friend's worry off. Putting on a fake smile, he led the way down to breakfast, Ron and Hermione trailing doubtfully behind him.

* * *

**A/N: There. An extra-long chapter. Now go review. :)**


	6. Chapter 6

Two weeks had passed, and Harry still had not opened up to Ron and Hermione, and they were getting worried.

"I'm worried about Harry, Ron. Look at him! He's like an empty shell. He's constantly jumpy and afraid, and.. he's just not Harry." Hermione hissed, her eyes suspiciously bright with emotion. She reached up and brushed her tears away impatiently.

"He's underneath there, somewhere." Ron said firmly. "We need to give him time."

They looked over to their friend. Harry had given up working on his homework in favour of staring into the flickering flames in the fireplace. He was sitting, knees pulled up against his chest and rocking back and forth slightly, as though it provided the little comfort that he so desperately craved.

"We need to talk to him. I don't care if he'll hate us after that, but it'll be better than allowing him to slide into a desperate spiral of depression! I don't want to do that. Harry needs help, and we are here to give that to him." Hermione said determinedly.

"Okay, we'll talk to him. Tomorrow night. It's Saturday, so we won't have lessons. He won't be too tired out then." Ron agreed.

Hermione smiled slightly. Tomorrow. They'd help Harry get out of this, no matter what.

* * *

Draco sat in the Slytherin common room, pondering over Harry's actions over the past two weeks. 

It was odd, he had to admit. He would have expected Potter to have confided in his friends already, and would have tried to stand back up. Instead, Harry was still awkward around people and jumpy in crowds, especially if someone suddenly touched him.

Draco noticed the slight shivering of the boy's small frame and the glazed eyes of Potter when his thoughts wandered during class. It was those times that he knew Potter was reliving the memories of whatever he had experienced during the summer.

He supposed Potter had been abused, really really badly, probably even worse than Draco. It had taken time for Draco to regain his confidence, but it had been nowhere as bad as Potter was now.

Severus had said not to provoke Potter, and Draco had tried. Of course, he couldn't make it too obvious, but he had stopped taunting Potter when they met in the corridors. But he had noticed the slight flinch, the haunted look in Potter's eyes when he heard the Slytherins' jeers.

* * *

Severus sat in his office. The pile of essays he was supposed to grade sat on the table unnoticed by the distracted Potions Master. 

He tapped his lip with his quill impatiently. Potter had been behaving oddly, to say the least, for the past few weeks. He had discussed it with the other teachers, and they had, too, after much reflection, realised that Potter was different this year. None of them were very concerned, though. Severus supposed all of them expected Potter to simply be fine, and bounce back as he had done many times.

But he knew they were wrong. If what he suspected about Potter was correct, this summer had hit him harder than ever. He was going to need a lot of help to 'bounce back again'.

Potter's changed behaviour was actually quite obvious if one looked properly. He had changed, becoming meeker and more cautious. Even when Severus snapped at him, he made no effort to rebutt as he normally did. Instead, his eyes were downcast, and Severus could see the nervous chewing of his bottom lip whenever he was afraid.

And there was the nervous jerk of his arm whenever anyone accidentally touched him. Harry would then look furtively around to see who had noticed, and later keep his hands to himself. There was that slight trembling of his hands when he prepared his potions, always unsure and unconfident.

There was once when Longbottom had accidentally knocked Potter's arm against the table, causing Potter to cry out softly in pain. Longbottom had apologised and later returned to his seat. Potter, on the other hand, had sat there for a full three minutes, motionless, his hands gripping the edge of the table so tightly that his knuckles had gone white. He had seemed to have had an internal struggle with himself. Severus guessed that the pain had reminded him of what his relatives had done to him.

Severus wondered if Weasley and Granger knew what was happening to their friend, whether they had noticed his changed behaviour. After all, the Headmaster had told him that Granger and Weasley knew about Harry's condition, but had been instructed not to breathe a word to him.

He'd observe Potter awhile longer before taking action, Severus decided.

Wait, since when did he care about Potter??

* * *

Harry sat in front of the Gryffindor fireplace, lost in his thoughts. 

He had seen the concerned and sympathetic looks his friends had thrown at him. But what did they know? Harry thought angrily. They had grown up in loving families full of warmth. They would never understand what he was going through.

Although they didn't know what had happened, they constantly asked about his health, probably concerned after he had collapsed in the Great Hall.

Harry guessed he should say something to Ron and Hermione, but could not bring himself to. How did one start such a conversation? It was so hard, so very hard.

Finally, the common room emptied out, and the trio went up to bed. Harry cast a localised silencing charm around himself before settling down to sleep.

Ever since the first night when he had woken the entire dormitory with his nightmare, he had been putting silencing charms around himself in order not to disturb his friends, nor draw any embarrassing attention to himself.

As usual, he left the curtains partially open to allow some light from the candle to filter through.

Hours later, Ron woke up. Feeling the need to visit the bathroom, he climbed out of bed and headed towards the bathroom. However, out of the corner of his eye, he caught movement from Harry's bed. Fearing the worst, he crept silently over.

Harry's mouth was open in a silent scream, and he was writhing frantically on the bed. Tangled up in the sheets, his desperate movement only served to tangle him up even more. His being trapped by the sheets seemed to fuel his panic and fear. Droplets of sweat dotted his forehead as his hands flailed about, trying to escape.

Ron even had to jump backwards warily in order to avoid being whacked on the head by Harry's flailing arms.

Another nightmare, Ron noted. Harry must have put silencing charms around himself in order not wake the others. How long had they been happening?

Ron cautiously untangled his friend from the sheets and covered him with it, careful not to wake Harry up. As soon as the sheets touched Harry, he grabbed them frantically and pulled them around himself before he relaxed and fell back asleep.

Tomorrow, Ron vowed silently. Tomorrow we'll get Harry to talk.

* * *

The next day dawned bright and clear. 

Fred and George had suggested they go to the lake to watch the giant squid and Ron, Harry and Hermione had agreed readily.

They sat by the lake under a large tree, lazily discussing events of the past week. Fred and George, meanwhile, enlisted the trio's help in thinking up new pranks.

"It's so hot today," George complained.

"Hey, why don't we go for a swim?" Ron suggested. The rest nodded happily and removed their shirts. Hermione transfigured a bathing suit onto herself before joining the others.

"Harry? Come on!" Ron said.

Harry shook his head. "I'm a little tired, you all go ahead." He smiled slightly at them.

Hermione looked doubtfully at him, but went ahead anyway.

Harry hadn't confessed his fear of water. During the summer, Uncle Vernon was so frustrated one day that he had dragged Harry to the bathroom where the bathtub was filled. Vernon had held Harry's head underwater for what felt like eternity. Harry had struggled, but had been no match against the burlier Uncle Vernon. He was in the water until red spots began swimming across his vision.

Suddenly, Uncle Vernon had released him, and Harry emerged, spluttering and gasping for air. From then on, Harry had developed a fear of water. After all, he had come to close to drowning. Harry shuddered involuntarily simply thinking about it.

Harry was suddenly snapped out of his thoughts by hands grabbing him. He flinched before realising they were Fred and George.

"Guys, what are you doing?" cried Harry as he fought them.

Fred and George did not answer but merely grinned at him.

"It's not funny!" Harry warned, fear creeping into his voice. What were they going to do with him?

Splash! They threw Harry into the water before jumping in themselves.

The water was cold and Harry struggled to stay afloat, kicking his legs about frantically. He could not reach the bottom. That served only to fuel his panic, and he struggled harder.

Water entered through his nose and he coughed harshly before his head went under again.

_Oh God, it was all happening again. Water, all around him._

He kicked out, paddling with his arms and he resurfaced, only to go under again in a few seconds. Harry accidentally swallowed a mouthful of water and he choked, only to cause more water to enter his mouth.

_No, please. Let me go. Get me out of the water._

Harry felt his chest constrict with fear.

_I am going to die._

Harry's vision finally faded to black as his limbs ceased their frantic struggling.

* * *

"Oh my God, is that Harry?" Hermione shrieked as she saw a head surface before going under again. 

Her shriek drew the attention of the others who immediately turned in Harry's direction.

"Oh God," Fred and George were pale.

Without hesitation, the three boys swam hurriedly in Harry's direction. Alarmed to see him limp and unconscious, they pulled him to safety as fast as they could.

"Harry!" Hermione called desperately, slapping his cheeks gently, willing him to wake up. He didn't even flinch at her touch. Oh, she would have given anything for Harry to flinch at the touch, which would show that he was not dead.

Instincts kicking in, Hermione started pumping Harry's chest as she had learnt before in a first-aid course in her old school. Tears ran unchecked down her cheeks as she pleaded with Harry to wake up.

The first few pumps yielded nothing, and Harry remained motionless, and not breathing.

After a few more pumps, Harry suddenly coughed. Hands rolled him on his side as he vomitted water out of his system. He lay there, gasping for a few minutes before turning back and facing his friends.

"We're sorry, mate," Fred said sorrowfully. "We didn't know you didn't know how to swim."

"I'm fine," Harry croaked, embarrassed for panicking in the water.

Noticing Harry's shivering, Hermione placed warming charms over him and wrapped him up snugly in their cloaks before the five of them headed back up to the dormitories.

Ron and the twins helped Harry out of his wet clothes before bundling him in dry ones and sending him off to bed.

As soon as Harry fell asleep, the three siblings crept out and joined the worried Hermione in the common room.

"We thought it would be a fine prank. We never though that it would end up this way," George explained sadly.

The group was subdued before they woke Harry for dinner and went down together.

* * *

"I'm still hungry!" Ron whined as Hermione dragged him away from the dinner table. Hermione looked pointedly at him before he noticed and stopped his protests. 

Harry had already finished his dinner despite his friends' protests to eat more, and Hermione wanted to start the talk with him, soon.

Five minutes later, they were in shut in the boys' dormitories alone.

"Um... guys, what are you doing?" Harry asked nervously.

"Harry, we want to talk to you." Hermione said in a rush before taking a deep breath. "We know what happened during the summer."

Harry paled visibly. He sat down on one of the beds, his hands fiddling with the sheets.

"I - I don't know what you are talking about, Hermione." He said, his voice betraying his words.

"Stop pretending nothing happened, Harry, because it did! I'm tired of seeing you retreat into yourself like this! It's killing you, Harry," Ron blurted out.

Harry suddenly stood up and bolted for the door, only to be held back by his friends.

"Harry, stop running away like this. It's not going to help. You need to talk to someone," Hermione said gently.

Harry looked down at his hands, eyes blinking rapidly in order to prevent the tears welling up in his eyes from flowing.

"Just leave me alone, okay?" He managed to choke out. "I'm not worth it."

"What _did_ those bastards say to you? What did they do to make you think this way?" Ron yelled.

Harry cringed.

"Did they say you were a - a, what was it again, a _freak_?"

_You are a freak! Just like your mother and father._

Harry shook his head numbly, tears falling freely down his cheeks now.

Hermione grabbed Ron's arm to get him to shut up, but was roughly shaken off by him. He was too angry.

"Did they say that? Did they say that Harry? Cos it's not true. How can you believe what they say?"

"Stop it, Ron." Harry said quietly.

"Harry, you can't believe what they say."

_They'll hate you, once they know what a burden you are._

"But it's true!" Harry finally burst out. "I am pathetic, a freak, a burden that no one wants!"

"So we have freak, pathetic and burden. We are making progress. What else did they do, Harry?" Ron listed, counting off his fingers.

Harry seemed not to have heard him.

"They - they said that no one would ever love me, and that everyone would hate me once they know how much of a burden I am!" He finally burst out before dissolving into hacking coughs.

"Harry, you are not a burden," Hermione started.

Harry shook his head frantically, retreating into a corner. "Yes," he sobbed. "Yes I am, you just don't know it yet."

Hermione reached towards him, attempting to pull him into a hug. But Harry jerked away, screaming "Don't touch me!" before running out of the room.

She was at a loss as she watched her friend cry helplessly before running out of the room.

"Ronald!" She huffed angrily.

"What? I didn't know he would react this way." Ron defended himself.

"Of course he would, you great insensitive prat. How would _you _feel if someone suddenly confronted you, naming all the possible insults you've ever had?"

"Yeah, yeah I guess..."

"_Now_ you realise."

"Well, this confrontation was _your_ idea."

"I meant ask him gently and persuade him to talk, not _blow up in his face_!" Hermione finally gave up and stormed out of the dormitory.

* * *

A/N: Yep, that's done. The next chapter may take a while though, because my holidays are over, and I won't have time to write. But keep reviewing!


	7. Chapter 7

Harry woke up shivering violently and screaming. He lay in his bed, paralysed in fear for a good five minutes before he regained movement of his leaden limbs. This nightmare had been the worst of all, simply thinking about it made him shudder involuntarily and pull the blankets more tightly around himself. His breathing was still harsh and ragged, and his throat felt raw from screaming and crying. There were still wet tear tracks on his cheeks when he had panicked at not being able to move. He had thought he was back at the Dursleys, chained up yet again, unable to move, unable to escape, unable to do anything, so helpless, so vulnerable…

It seemed that Ron's forced confession had brought back some of the worst memories of the summer. And this, in turn, had caused that horrendous nightmare.

He looked over at his best friend, who was soundly asleep with his mouth slightly open. Ron would never understand how Harry felt. He had brothers, and a family who actually loved him. Ron never knew how fortunate he was. Even though he was poor, he was surrounded by people who cared for him. He had never had to grapple with being chucked aside by people who viewed him as a burden.

And Hermione. Yes, Harry knew that she cared for him, but she too, had grown up in a caring loving home. She would never be able to understand what Harry had gone through, not even through the numerous books he knew she had read.

Heart thumping wildly, Harry slid the blanket off his body as he regained his movement. Shivering slightly from the night chill, he was thankful for the silencing charm he placed around him every night. Otherwise, it would definitely have resulted in another embarrassing scene.

And he didn't want Ron bugging him to 'talk' to him again. He needed to talk to someone, he knew that. But he just couldn't go up to Ron or Hermione and suddenly start spilling out all his innermost thoughts and pains could he?

He needed questions, he needed to talk, he just didn't know how to start. Nor did anyone around him, for that matter. Ron's outburst had just resulted in Harry blowing his top and dissolving in a sobbing wreck, and it had brought up old memories that Harry had shoved at the back of his mind so carefully. It brought up new pain, new agony, that Harry had tried to overcome.

A tear wound its way down Harry's cheek and plopped silently onto the cold stone floor.

He couldn't go back to sleep, not now. He didn't want to relive his torture all over again. He couldn't. Not after he had woken up paralysed with fear.

Oh how he wanted someone to protect, someone to love him, just for him to know that they cared. But no one could provide him with that. They were all too busy caught up in their own little safe protected worlds, too occupied to even think of him. But he couldn't ask for more. He didn't have the right. Who was he to demand that someone love him? After all, his parents were dead, he thought bitterly, another tear tracking his way down his face.

He needed to be alone. He needed time to think, and he needed to wait till morning, for he definitely didn't want to go back to sleep and face those terrible monsters again.

Grabbing a book off his bedside table, he headed towards the bathroom. Once inside, he sank to the cold tiled floor gratefully, knees pulled up to his chest protectively. The light bathing the entire bathroom was comforting, a safe respite from the darkness and horrors of his nightmares.

Looking down at his hands, he realized that they were sweaty and shaking slightly from fear. Casting a silencing charm around the bathroom, Harry put his head in his hands and cried.

Morning came a few hours later, and Harry went down to the common room, before any of the others awoke, so that they would not find out that he had slept well the night before.

"Harry! You are up early!" Neville commented as he saw Harry reading in the common room.

Harry smiled, but didn't answer. He had to stifle a yawn as he looked down yet again at the History of Magic book he was attempting to read. He had to get a more interesting book in future.

It had been hard to stay awake the night before. Every time he was on the verge of falling asleep, Harry would pinch himself, and force himself to read the book.

"Hi – uh, Harry," Hermione and Ron entered the common room together, greeting their friend timidly. They were unsure of how to react after Harry's breakdown the evening before.

Ron had regretted blowing his top and being too harsh on his friend, but he had been outraged by the way Harry had been so unfairly treated by his relatives. He was boy, a human, for goodness sake, how could anyone be so cruel?

"Hi," Harry answered back coldly, never lifting his eyes from his book.

Ron and Hermione looked apprehensively at each other. What if, because of last night, Harry retreated more into himself than before?

* * *

That day, Harry paid extra attention in class, even in History of Magic, not even relying on Hermione's notes. The rest of the class had fallen into a stupor, but for once, Harry had joined Hermione in taking notes, much to the astonishment of his friends. 

Even in Potions, Harry tried extra hard. He read and reread every single instruction on the board, careful not to add the wrong ingredients or in the wrong idea, and for once, his potions turned out the desired colour, so much so that Snape had nothing to say when he say Harry's potion.

Harry had decided, during the hours he had spent in the bathroom trying to stay awake that he would work harder in his studies. If he achieved better grades, maybe others would love him more, and he would be worth more. After all, he was just an orphan that no one cared about, so maybe, just maybe, if he tried just a little harder, others would like him more… Just maybe.

That night, as he got into bed with the others, Harry's head was pounding painfully. He didn't feel well at all. He had developed a cough, and he was feeling hot and cold at the same time, but had not told anyone, merely dismissing his cough due to dust.

He supposed it was due to him not sleeping last night, but if he stayed up over a few days, his body would soon get accustomed to it, and he wouldn't feel like that anymore.

"'Night," the others sleepily said as they slipped off in slumber.

Harry lay silently on his bed, waiting for the others to fall asleep. He didn't want to sleep and face his uncle and experience the torture again. It was too agonizing, reliving those nights, those beatings…

It wasn't long before Harry heard soft snores from the boys in his dormitory. Good, they were all asleep, Harry thought.

Quietly, he snuck out of his bed, and grabbing an interesting book this time, and made his way to the bathroom.

On the way there, dust tickled his throat, and all of a sudden, he had an urge to cough. Shit. He swallowed rapidly, not wanting to cough and wake the others, but his throat was too uncomfortable.

He coughed, freezing to see if anyone heard. For a heart-stopping moment, Ron stirred slightly in his sleep, but did not awaken. Sighing in relief, Harry left the dorms and headed to the bathroom.

Once inside, he sank to the ground in relief. It was a close shave. Looking down at the book in his hands, he started reading. Even when his eyes itched with tiredness, he did not stop. He needed to keep awake. Hermione had been right all along. Harry desperately needed to work harder. Only when he put in effort, would his grades improve.

Besides, he didn't want to go to sleep. What if he fell asleep, and couldn't wake up or move, like the night before? He would be trapped in the nightmare forever, with no way of escape. To be faced with the monster of his uncle again? Harry shuddered violently, curling in even further into himself.

Just the mere thought of his uncle made his hair stand, and he rubbed his arms, feeling the goosebumps that had arisen from the fear evoked by the mere mention of his uncle. He did not want ot go back there. He really didn't want to. But where could he go? He had no one in the world, no one to love him like how Ron and Hermione's parents did. Everyone had their own lives to lead, no one would want to be burdened with him.

_You are a freak, a burden. No one would want you once they know what a burden you are._

A tear trickled down Harry's cold cheek. He had thought of living with Sirius, but Sirius wouldn't want him, would he? He had just been acquitted, surely he'd want his own life, and not be burdened by Harry. Anyway, he had Order business, and was far too busy to care about Harry.

Biting his lip, Harry blinked rapidly, but failed to stem the flow of tears. Aware enough to cast a silencing charm, he cried, for the second night in a row.

* * *

Most of the teachers had noticed Harry's sudden fervent wish to work hard. He had resorted to asking teachers for extra classes in order to pull his grades up. While most of teachers were surprised as his sudden change in attitude towards his work, they were happy that he had finally realised the importance of school and taken Hermione Granger's advice. 

Severus, on the other hand, found it odd. Ha - no - Potter, he corrected himself hastily, had never taken much of an interest towards his schoolwork, so why was he suddenly changing. If he didn't know better...

To think that Potter had actually beaten Draco in the latest quiz! Draco had always been his top student. He had a natural flair for potions without needing to work very hard. Potter, on the other hand, must have worked extremely hard to have achieved it.

He had been observing him, especially during mealtimes. Potter was constantly reading during his meals, never eating much apart for one or two mouthfuls. His eyes seemed glued to the page, and though Weasley and Granger seemed concerned about him, they never made a move to ask him about it.

Come to think about it, Weasley and Granger had hardly spoken to Potter during these two days. What happened between them?

Potter needed his friends now, of all times. He badly needed their support. He needed them to give him security and support that no one else would have been able to provide. Especially since they knew of what had happened over the summer, Severus would have though Granger knew better than this...

He had seen Potter's nervous twitches during class, had observed the desperate rubbing of eyes when Potter seemed to be struggling to stay awake in class, seen the stifled yawns, seen the slight trembling of Potter's hands as he held his quill. Yet Severus didn't want to say anything. He didn't want to appear as if he _cared_ about the boy.

Severus Snape was a cold, unfeeling man. He needed to keep up that image.

* * *

Ron and Hermione had noticed the slight changes in Harry. 

"Harry, are you alright? You seem tired, and your cough seems to be getting worse." Hermione had ventured one day.

Harry had glared at her and snapped back coldly, "I'm fine. Leave me alone, thank you."

After that, Hermione and Ron had not dared to ask about him anymore, but resorted to throwing him glances when he wasn't looking.

Harry was tired. He could barely stay awake in classes, but forced himself to, telling himself that it was all he needed to do to improve his grades. Moreover, as long as he kept this up, his body would become accustomed to less sleep, and soon he would be fine.

That night, Harry crept into the bathroom as usual, and was reading his Herbology textbook, making notes on a bit of parchment along the way.

In the Gryffindor dormitories, Ron had just awoken due to a particularly full bladder. He looked over out of habit to Harry's bed. It was empty. Though curious as to where his friend had gone, Ron dared not ask, and so instead decided to empty his bladder first.

As he approached the bathroom, he saw the thin line of light from under the door. As he came nearer, he thought he heard the slight scratching of quill on paper. It had to be Harry, who else would be studying at this time of the night?

He knocked.

There was no answer.

"I'm coming in, Harry," Ron finally called out.

There was still no answer.

He opened the door cautiously. Harry was sitting cross-legged on the cold tiled floor, studying, looking up as Ron entered.

"Harry! What are you doing studying at this hour! Even if you wanted to improve your grades, you needn't do this."

Harry remained silent, staring and fiddling with the quill in his hands.

"You couldn't sleep, couldn't you?" Ron demanded.

"I'm fine, Ron." Harry answered tiredly, too tired to snap back. "Leave me alone."

Not wanting to pick another fight, Ron quickly used the toilet while Harry waited outside and went back to bed. He never knew that Harry had been doing this for the past few days already.

* * *

Harry felt his cough getting worse and worse every day. He often got headaches during classes, and lost his appetite. Once, when Hermione and Ron had tried to force him to eat, he took one bite, only to rush out of the Great Hall seconds later towards the nearest bathroom, throwing everything up. 

He had noticed his own gaunt appearance in the mirror when he was in the bathroom every night, but had resorted to putting up glamour charms to hide his emaciated frame, giving his friends a normal image of him. What if Ron and Hermione deserted him if they saw him in this state? No one wanted him now already, much less if he was ugly and sickly. No. He needed to act and look normal.

Harry resorted to stifling his coughs, dismissing them as merely being an allergy to dust. They had tried to persuade him to go to the Hospital Wing, but after Harry had refused adamantly, they had not persisted, not wanting to lose his friendship again.

Of course, his cough hadn't missed Severus' observant eyes. Years of being a spy had taught him to judge people, and to judge them well. The trembling of his hands was getting more and more serious, as though he had hardly the strength to hold the quill. Even stirring the cauldron during Potions seemed to be a difficult task for him, and Longbottom often had to do it for him.

He had seen the way Potter had run out of the Great Hall after he had taken but one bite of his food. He saw the way Potter was studying ever so fervently, that even Granger was worried.

He had even approached Severus for extra classes! Potter and Snape, ever the arch enemies, to have Potter, being headstrong as he was, meekly ask for extra classes! Severus had agreed, for the simple reason that Severus felt that there was a need to keep an eye on him.

Severus knew that taking care of Potter wasn't his responsibility, but he felt that he couldn't simply ignore how Potter was coping in favour of treating him indifferently. Furthermore, if he gave Potter extra classes, he would be able to see Potter more. Those enrapturing emerald eyes, so full of life and vibrance before...

Severus blushed as he realised where that train of thoughts was taking him.

No. He mustn't think of Potter in this way. He was a teacher for goodness sake, and Potter was a student, his most hated student, in fact. Severus Snape could not possibly be falling for a student! It would be preposterous.

* * *

It was five in the morning, and Harry was walking back from the bathroom to his bed, to pretend to be asleep before his dormmates awoke. 

A dizzy spell hit him, and he swayed precariously for a moment, grabbing on to a nearby ledge for support until his vision cleared. He felt unwell, worse than he had been feeling for the past two weeks.

He would just have a lie-down. Everything would be fine. He couldn't miss class today, they had an essay due for Charms on a topic likely to come out for the exams. Harry couldn't afford to miss the class. If he did, his grades would fall drastically.

Coughing slightly, Harry made his way to his bed, lying down gratefully to ease his pounding head.

Two hours later, Ron woke up, and stepped over to Harry's bed to wake him up, as usual.

"Harry, you sleepyhead. Rise and shine!" Ron called.

Harry did not answer.

"Harry! Wake up, you're gonna be late," Ron called again warningly.

A soft moan answered him.

Immediately concerned, he rushed over to his friend's bedside. The sight of Harry shocked Ron. Harry was so thin, so thin, and there was blood on his pillow, where he had coughed into. His face was flushed, and as Ron placed his hand against Harry's cheek, he was appalled to find that it was burning.

Harry, oh my god, why had he become like this? He had been fine the night before, unless he suddenly got very sick during the night and no one knew? Ron was sickened by the thought.

He gently turned Harry over, placing his hand on Harry's forehead again. Moaning, Harry pushed his friend's hand away and lurched over the side of the bed, retching violently. Ron was even more shocked as he saw blood in Harry's vomit.

"Harry, can you hear me?"

Harry groaned, his eyes flickering open, glazed with fever.

"Who are you?" came the pained question.

Ron's stomach sank to the bottom. Was Harry's fever that bad that he had lost all recognition? He needed to get Hermione, now.

Hermione was equally shocked to see Harry in this terrible state, and immediately decided to get him to the Hospital Wing with Ron's help.

Supporting Harry between them, they slowly made their way to the Infirmary, with Harry stopping to throw up several times.

"What have we here? And what's wrong with Potter? Granger?" Severus had seen the trio making their arduous journey up to the Hospital Wing, and was concerned for Potter.

"Sir, Harry's sick, very sick. We need to get him to the Hospital Wing fast!" Hermione's voice was shrill with panic.

"What is wrong with him? Why does he look like that?" Severus was startled by the sudden change in the Gryffindor's appearance, but struggled not to let his concern show.

"He has a really high fever and was coughing up blood when Ron found him this morning," Hermione explained.

Severus stepped forward, placing a hand on the boy's hot forehead. Harry jerked away. The boy was burning, and he needed immediate medical attention.

"Get off," moaned Harry in a feverish haze. He struggled weakly at his 'captors' and managed to shrug them off.

Blinking rapidly as though not to faint, he managed to stand for a moment before pitching forward towards Severus. Hands grabbed frantically at Severus' robes as Harry fell, and he stayed there, half-supported by his hold on Severus' robes.

Harry was flushed, and his breaths came in short gasps. As he drew air, there was a rattling in his lungs. Breathing harshly, there was a tense moment as Hermione and Ron waited to see how the Potions Master would react to his most hated student collapsing and holding onto him for support.

Severus merely stood stock still, unsure of how to react.

Several minutes passed before Harry attempted to stand up again.

He scrambled to his feet hurriedly, exerting a lot of strength, judging by the way his breaths became short pants. Once standing, Harry immediately released Severus and leaned against the stone wall, hands feeling in front of him for uneven ridges on the wall for him to grab on to.

Severus and the two Gryffindors stood transfixed at the ill boy make is torturous way down the corridor.

Severus saw the way Harry was so tired, so much so that he could hardly lift his feet up. It suddenly dawned on him that Harry was so sick that he was losing his life energy. He had been using glamour charms to hide his exhaustion for the past two weeks, and now that his life energy was failing, the charms were failing too, revealing what he had tried so desperately to hide.

Harry was emaciated, and bones could be seen poking out from the back of his neck. There were dark rings under his eyes and his face was so shrunken. His skin seemed so pasty, as though it had been stretched over his cheekbones.

A muffled gasp from Granger caused him to zoom into Potter. Potter had just collapsed, lying motionless in the middle of the hallway.

Pursing his lips, Severus scooped the fallen boy up gently and headed wordlessly towards the Hospital Wing.

* * *

_Ha. Finally done. I've been busy. The next chapter will take awhile before it comes though. But meanwhile, I really hope you review. Even if it's been eons since I posted it, please review. It lets me know what you guys are thinking. _


	8. Chapter 8

_I know this chapter took really long to come up, but I was really busy, and went overseas for awhile. The next chapter will take some time too. Sorry. But keep reviewing! It really helps. And I love Deathly Hallows :)_

* * *

Finally, they reached the Hospital Wing and Severus set him down on a bed in a far corner, thankful that no students had seen him caring for his most hated student. 

"Poppy!" he called gruffly as the matron came running, stifling a gasp as she took in Harry's weak condition.

"What happened to him? He wasn't like this when I saw him yesterday! Was he tortured by You-Know-Who? Was he -- " her voice rose shrilly.

"Quit rambling and get on with healing him, woman," Severus snapped. Poppy seemed to come to her senses suddenly and started gfathering the necessary potions.

"He fainted from echaustion, and apparently he's not been sleeping, nor eating, and he hid that under glamour charms. He got sick, and it worsened till it was sapping his life energy. That's when the glamour failed," Severus explained.

"Please sir," Hermione piped up. Severus looked up in surprise. He hadn't realised Granger and Weasley had been following him. "I think he got sick two weeks ago, when ... when we played a prank on him and threw him into the lake. But he had a panic attack and Fred and George had to save him. He was shivering, and the coughing started the next day..." Hermione finished timidly.

"You did what?" Sevferus thundered. "All this happened and you never told anyone. You know what happened over the summer, and you did this. You know his immune system is weak, and he would never have told anyone if he wasn't feeling well.What Potter sees in you I really don't know. Back to your common rooms!"

The duo fled, Hermione with tears of shame streaming down her face, Ron white with fear, intimidated by the furious Professor, while wondering when the Potions' Master had ever become so concerned about Harry.

"Really, Severus," Poppy chided. "I never allow shouting in my Infirmary."

"Sorry," Severus answered, not really meaning it. "How is he?" he asked, softening.

"He's very weak. Help me get these potions into his system."

Severus hastily hurried to Harry's bedside and sat down, lifting Harry slightly such that he was leaning on Severus, head on Severus' shoulder. Severus held a vial near Harry's mouth. Harry turned away instinctively, moaning softly and thrashed weakly. Severus' heart clenched as he saw what Vernon Dursley had done to Harry, so much so that he was afraid of drinking stuff offered to him, preferring to shy away as though it were poison.

Left with no choice, Severus dipped a finger into the vial and dabbed it on Harry's lips. He saw Harry's tongue poke cautiously out and lick the potion. Assured that it was not poison, Harry's body seemed to slacken, just that little bit into Severus' arms.

Relieved, Severus poured the potion, bit by bit into Harry's mouth, patiently waiting until the boy had swallowed the mouthful before pouring another.

Meanwhile, Poppy had been attaching tubes to Harry's chest in order to monitor his vital signs.

Seeing the tubes sticking out of the boy, trapping him like chains, it pained Severus' heart.

"You care for him, don't you?" Came a quiet voice to the left of Severus. Severus jumped slightly and scowled at the matron.

"Don't bother answering if you are lying to your heart. You know what is true. You don't have to deny it."

Severus stared blankly at Harry's still form. He kept silent, and heard the footsteps of the nurse as she left.

* * *

Harry's condition remained unchanged over the next few days. 

Severus visited him a couple of times, mostly under the cover of darkness in the middle of the night. He definitely didn't want Granger or Weasley, or any other student for that matter, see him visiting his supposed most hated student.

Hermione and Ron visited Harry as often they could, and often talked to him, though they avoided touching him if necessary, for Harry whimpered pitifully even in his weak state at anyone touching him, and flinched away.

During his visits, Severus would stand silently by Harry's bedside, not knowing what to do. He knew that his feelings would ultimately lead to nowhere. They were fruitless, and Severus Snape was not one to waste time on fruitless matters, but he couldn't help himself. No matter how hard he tried to suppress them, they simply would not leave him alone. Worry for Harry's health plagued Severus' mind daily, and he couldn't concentrate on his work.

This annoyed him to no end, but for the first time in his life, Severus Snape was at a loss of what to do.

"Here again, Severus?"

Severus gave a start and looked around, only to see Albus Dumbledore looking at him from the door of the Hospital Wing. Severus scowled, but did not answer.

Oh, the mortification at being caught showing concern for his hated student!

"You shouldn't be ashamed of your feelings."

Severus looked down. Dumbledore seemed to be able to read his mind. Sometimes, that man was just too smart for his own good.

"Harry is rather likeable, I must admit."

Severus looked up, seeing the mischievous twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes. Rolling his eyes, Severus stalked away, back into the safety, and most desired privacy of his own quarters.

* * *

"How is he, Poppy?" Severus tried to make his voice sound casual as he was restocking the potions in the Hospital Wing the next day. 

"Still weak. He has been through a lot, the poor boy, and his immune system! Ms Granger should have known better than to keep that incident from the teachers. The illness is not helping him overcome his exhaustion. I'm afraid he'll need a while more before he'll even wake up. Even then, there is his emotional health to keep in mind. It'll take a lot for him to regain his former self..." The nurse trailed off, gazing sadly at the boy.

"I'll take him." Severus said quickly, but immediately cursed himself inwardly for his rashness.

"What?" the mediwitch looked up, hardly believing her ears. Severus Snape, who was known to hate Harry Potter was offering to take him in? To show blatant care for him?

"Yes." Snape snapped, regaining his cold exterior. "Did your ears trick you? I said that I'll take him, I believe some private time, away from the prying eyes of this," Severus paused and looked around disdainfully. "open Hospital Wing, would be beneficial in his recovery."

Poppy smiled inwardly. She did not take insult at Severus' words. After all, she had known Severus Snape long enough to know when he was hiding his true feelings.

"Fine." She agreed readily, and immediately bustled off, preparing a list of potions and treatment that Harry had to undergo on a regular basis.

Snape stood stock-still. He didn't believe what he had just done. Idiot!

Soon, the list was done, and the still-scowling Potions' Master scooped the boy gently in his arms and stalked out of the Hospital Wing.

"Severus?"

Snape turned around just before he stepped out the doorway. "Yes?" he sneered, cocking his eyebrow skeptically.

"Wipe that scowl off that face, will you? I don't fancy Harry waking up to a frowning Potions' Master." Poppy called good-naturedly.

"Shut up." Severus retorted, as he turned his back on the smiling nurse and left the Infirmary.

* * *

Harry awoke in a soft bed, blinking open to gentle rays of sunlight shining on his face. 

He looked around. It wasn't the Hospital Wing. He had been there more than enough times to remember what it looked like.

There were blue and silver drapings around the bed, giving it a mystical feel. The room itself was decorated grandly, with an adjoining bathroom and an ornate mirror in the corner.

Still puzzled as to where he was, Harry scrambled to sit up.

Having lain in bed for so long, Harry was weak, and it took a few minutes of helpless floundering on the bed before Harry could sit up, albeit not very comfortably on the bed against the headboard. He breathed heavily from the exertion and coughed painfully, his lungs not quite recovered from the nasty infection.

He raised a trembling hand towards the bedside table where his wand lay. As he reached for it, his hand bumped into a glass of water and it fell to the floor with a loud crash. Harry froze, eyes darting, trying desperately to resist the urge to curl up once again into a protective ball as he had so often done in his relatives' house.

Seconds passed, with no one entering the room to investigate the source of the noise. Breathing slightly more easily, Harry relaxed and grabbed his wand.

Thinking he should find out where he was, Harry flung the covers off him. After all, he could be in danger. One could never be too careful. His summer's experiences had taught him that well.

With a great heave, Harry stood up, swaying slightly as the room around him whirled dizzily. He felt light-headed for a moment and had to close his eyes, hands gripping the bedside table tightly for support as he tried to gain his bearings.

At last, the room righted itself once again, and Harry took a tentative step forward.

The sudden change in balance almost caused Harry to keel over as the room spun again. He leant against the wall, breathing heavily, forehead against the cool surface of the wall.

However, the determination to find out where he was kept Harry going. He leant mostly on the wall as he inched his way to the door. His hands scrabbled on the wall's rough surface, searching for handholds as the room spun with every step he took. But he supposed it was getting better the more he walked, for the room seemed to spin less and less.

Finally, he reached the door. He stood still for a moment, trying hard to catch his breath. That short, barely two-metre walk from the bed to the door had exhausted him and worn him out greatly.

The door opened with a click as Harry opened it cautiously. It led out to a small landing, after which was a flight of stairs.

Gripping the bannisters tightly as though for dear life, Harry made his way, step by step down the stairs.

It wasn't long, though, before he felt himself falling. His knees buckled and his fingers scrabbled at the railing to pull himself back up but to no avail. Instead, strong arms lifted him up.

Harry closed his eyes tightly. His head was pounding from all that spinning, not to mention tired. He coughed harshly, his chest clenching painfully as he did. His eyebrows knitted in pain as he did and he moaned pitifully.

Slowly, the world came into realisation, and Harry realised that he was being held by someone.

The sudden realisation shocked him. He was in the arms of another, at the mercy of someone, in a weaker position, vulnerable to attack and abuse.

Memories of the summer flooded Harry's head and he writhed desperately. He scrabbled at the soft fabric that was that man's clothes, willing him to let him go.

"No, please let me go. Please..." Harry resorted to begging and pleading as the man did not relinquish his firm hold on Harry.

Harry fell quiet with a rising dread within him as he realised that his captor was not releasing him. He moaned and closed his eyes.

"Are you quite done, Potter?" Came a familiar drawl.

Harry opened his eyes slowly and looked up, where he had not dared to look before, and found himself looking up into the face of his Potions Professor.

His face burned as he mumbled "Professor Snape" and quickly turned his head away in mortification.

He had let Snape see him at his weakest, and now he was being carried, _carried_, by him.

"I'm fine now. You can put me down." Harry muttered.

"Ah, yes. Potter, always the brave one."

Harry winced at the tone, but kept silent, unmoving in his teacher's arms.

Noticing the small amount of hurt that Harry was unable to hide on his face, Snape regretted his words and softened his tone.

"What are you doing out of bed? You know that you are weak and should not be moving about so soon," Snape chastised gently.

"I, I didn't know where I was, sir," Harry said in a small voice. If he had not heard wrongly, there was that little, ever so faint, hint of concern in his tone, was there? If he dared to think so, Harry would have said that being in Snape's arms was actually quite comfortable, and relaxed, just that tiny bit into Snape's arms.

Snape felt some tension leave Harry's body and revelled in the sensation. Could that be counted as an improvement in their relationship? That Harry actually felt comfortable with him? But he dared not put his hopes too high. He knew, that after all that had happened, it would take time for Harry to trust again, much less Severus Snape.

"Let's get you upstairs."

Severus shifted Harry in his arms such that Harry was lying more comfortably against him, head resting against Severus' chest.

Harry could feel the soft robes against his cheeks as he allowed his professor to carry him upstairs and tuck him gently in bed.

"Sleep", came the gentle but firm command. Harry lay down obediently, eyes following Snape around the room as he drew the curtains.

Snape seemed to linger, just that little longer at Harry's bedside before he left.

"_Nox_" he muttered before he turned to leave the room.

But he couldn't leave. Something had snagged his robes.

Severus lit his wand and turned around. Harry's hand was curled around the edge of Severus' robes, stopping him from leaving. Harry's eyes were wide and frightened, and his hand was shaking, as though he was on the verge of a panic attack.

"Wait." Came the curt reply.

Severus heard the harsh, quickened breathing as he left the room.

Seconds later, Severus returned, setting a candle on the bedside table. Harry, upon seeing the light, relaxed into the bed, sighing in relief.

"Thank you," came the quiet, timid reply from the bed.

"You're welcome."

* * *

_Hope you liked it! Now review!!!_


	9. Chapter 9

"Severus..." Poppy started, but hesitated. The truth weighing heavily on her mind. Just the mere knowledge of it pained her, pierced her very being. She lowered her gaze to the table. It was unusual for the matron to be this hesitant.

"What?" snapped Severus in reply. "It's about Potter, isn't it?" His impatient tone belied his underlying worry and concern. "Is there anything you should know?"

Poppy paused. "Severus... How is he doing?" She asked finally.

Severus shrugged. "Fine. He woke up yesterday and tried to make his way downstairs, nearly collapsing along the way," he replied irritably. "Hasn't woken up since I gave him the Dreamless Sleep Potion for his to sleep in order to rebuild his strength."

Poppy nodded, still hesitating. "Good, that's good," she muttered distractedly.

"What is it, woman? Surely you did not ask me here just to ask about whether he has woken up or not?"

"No... no, Severus. There's something important, very important, that you need to know."

Severus waited expectantly.

"Harry - the boy was... he was raped, Severus, by his uncle, brutally." It came out at last, faltering, stammering, but the truth was out. Poppy met Severus' shocked gaze.

The sentence fell, ominous in the deathly silent room.

Severus did not speak for several moments. It was hard to imagine the brutal horror the boy had been through, the sheer panic he would have felt, the trauma he would have had to deal with, the utter disgust he would have towards himself. How could that _child_ live with that since the school term started? He was so young, so vulnerable.

"I... I didn't know," Severus stated softly, quietly, his voice in a shocked whisper.

"You need to talk to him, Severus, you are the only one who can get to him now. Help him, he needs you," the nurse stared imploringly into the other's obsidian gaze.

Their gazes met for a brief moment.

Severus nodded curtly. He had not needed the plea. He knew he would help Har - Potter.

"You care for him, Severus." It was a statement, not a question. "You, deep down inside, behind that cold exterior, I know you care for him. Your actions speak for themselves."

Coal black eyes met the smiling ones of the nurse. There was neither denial nor acknowledgement, but unfathomable darkness.

Standing up abruptly, the Potions Master left the room, robes billowing behind him, his face once more a stony mask, but his heart... his heart ached within him for the small frail boy lying sleeping in his quarters.

* * *

Severus observed the raven-haired teen lying in the bed, so... fragile. It was hard to believe how his innocence and purity had been snatched away so brutally by a monster, a beast. 

He could tell the Dreamless Sleep Potion was wearing off, for Harry was starting to stir. He moaned softly, head turning slightly to his left.

Severus stepped closer, pulling the covers more tightly around the teen.

The movement seemed to startle the boy, for he jerked convulsively, putting his arms automatically over his face.

"No... no, no," came the soft murmured pleas of the boy. His entire frame trembled, and he almost seemed to shrink as he curled up into a tight protective ball.

"Please, no," the cries were louder now, and his arms flailed wildly, as though trying to fend off an unknown assailant.

Severus stared, almost curiously, at the boy's movements. He did not, could not, seem to do anything.

"No, uncle, please, no, not that," the boy arched his back suddenly, as though in pain, and burst out in sobs. His fists were clenched, his bottom lip bitten and bleeding.

"NO!" It came out as a scream, a hysterical cry, a plea for mercy.

The boy kicked out, connecting with Severus stomach and Severus stumbled backwards clutching his stomach, breathless.

Harry, feeling the contact, quickly withdrew his leg and curled up once more in the protective ball, sobbing and shaking.

Every sob, every ragged intake of breath, seemed to tear into Severus' very being. To see Harry in such pain, in such torture, it was sheer torture himself.

Severus approached slowly, standing over the boy still trapped in the throes of his nightmare. His uncle, that beast, had done this, ruined an otherwise brave and strong child. Severus felt foreign anger and indignation well up in him. It was odd, Severus reflected ironically, that the first time he had felt righteous anger for someone was for his rival's child.

"No, please..." Harry was begging now.

Severus placed a cautious hand on the teen's flushed cheek.

Harry flinched instinctively, but leaned into the touch as he realised that it meant no harm. His breaths still came in sharp panicked gasps.

Severus pulled the covers more securely around the boy, in an attempt to make him more comfortable, but the sudden movement of the boy surprised him. Harry, sensing the welcome movement, had grasped instinctively at Severus' robes, and now had a firm hold on it.

Severus sighed, annoyed, but deep down pleased that the boy had shown some kind of desire for comfort.

_A/N: Thanks for waiting, sorry for the late update. This is incomplete, but just wanted to satisfy you all, even just for a little bit. I will probably update late October. Please continue reading!_


	10. Chapter 10

Harry woke up feeling more rested than ever

Harry woke up feeling more rested than ever. It was strange how relaxed he felt in days. Shifting slightly, he realized he was on something soft and warm.

Freezing, his breath caught in his throat as he regained his bearings. It wasn't his uncle's house. No, this room was far more ornate, far more luxurious than he would be given at the Dursley's.

Hogwarts. He was at Hogwarts. Snape. Yes, it all came back to him now. He was in Snape's chambers, which meant, he was lying on…

The realization startled him, as he shifted, tilting his head up, up, and met amused onyx eyes.

"P – Professor!" Came the startled whisper. "I'm sorry, how – how did you…"

"Good that you have finally realized where you are," Came the wry reply. Harry cringed slightly, afraid of the snide man.

"You were having a nightmare last night, Potter. Shaking and crying out. I had no choice but to stay here, or you would more likely than not wake up the whole castle with your crying." Severus said brusquely.

"Oh. I – I'm sorry." Harry looked down at his covers, cheeks burning with mortification. How could he have shown his darkest, weakest side to his more hated professor?

Not wanting to hurt the boy, but yet not wanting to appear soft in front of his student, Harry Potter, much less, Severus stood up, moving the boy gently.

Harry was lost in his thoughts, startled when a cool hand was placed on his forehead before moving down to his neck.

"You're still a little warm," Severus observed.

Harry leaned slightly into the touch, enjoying the gentleness the touch brought, much unlike the violent and cruel ones of his uncle.

Surprised, Severus said nothing, but conjured up a damp cloth, charming it to stay wet, and tried to bring down Harry's temperature.

Harry let himself be cared for by Snape, but was slightly alarmed when he felt his eyes go wet. He blinked furiously, refusing to let his feelings show. He'd never been cared for by someone before, much less Snape, and that feeling was … nice.

He furrowed his brow as tears threatened to spill out. Why was Snape doing this to him? His most hated student? No one should ever treat him that well. He didn't deserve it, his uncle had drilled that into his head well.

Severus noticed his student's reaction, puzzled.

"Are you feeling uncomfortable, Potter?"

Harry shook his head furiously, not wanting to speak for fear it would give his emotions away.

"Are you in pain?" Unlike his usual tone, this tone was gentle, caressing.

Harry didn't respond, his eyes filling with more tears as he tried desperately to blink them away.

"Harry?" Severus decided not to antagonize the boy further. He knelt down by the bed. "Has anyone taken care of you when you were sick before?"

Harry averted his eyes, giving an imperceptible shake of his head.

Severus waited for the elaboration that would come. It wasn't in vain.

"They thought I should be able to heal them all by myself. I wasn't worth it, anyway. A waste of money."

The lack of bitterness in the boy's tone was alarming. It was almost as though he believed it. He seemed almost… resigned to his fate.

Severus kept silent, unsure of how to respond to him. He had no experience talking to abused kids, for goodness sake. He was a Potions Master, cold and unfeeling, someone who never showed any outward emotion. He could not afford to bring down that mask now, not for any student, not even if he was Harry Potter. He continued touching Harry's forehead and neck with the towel. It would help in bringing down his fever.

"Thank you," Harry rasped, his throat dry from talking. He was still weak, after all.

A bout of hacking coughs took him by surprise. His chest heaved as he struggled to regain control of his breathing. It was painful, as his airways constricted, only serving to alarming the struggling boy more.

He swallowed, hard, but the cough didn't subside. He was running short of breath now, and he floundered on the bed, tossing and turning, trying to get up, but his arms too weak to support even his light weight.

Severus had tried to help, but the moment he had touched the boy, Harry had immediately jerked away from him.

In his distress, Harry was left unaware of his surroundings, focusing only on the pain and discomfort he was in, returning him to his past, back to where all his life consisted of was pain and tears.

The touch had startled him, and he had interpreted it as wanting to cause more pain and more harm on his already abused body.

Severus had no choice but to leave the room, obtaining an ointment from his private stores.

When he returned, the boy was tossing and turning violently on the bed. Ignoring the flinch his touch made on the boy, he unbuttoned the boy's shirt and gently rubbed the salve on Harry's chest.

"Harry, stop struggling. This will help. Come on, relax." Severus' deep baritone rung out in the room.

Harry seemed to register his words, as his struggling ceased quickly.

The salve soothed the coughing, aided by Severus rubbing Harry's chest gently.

His breathing soon returned to normal, save for the occasional coughs now and then.

"Rest awhile, Harry, I'll get the house elves to prepare some food for you."

For the first time, Harry registered the use of his first name. Looking up in surprise, he saw a flicker of concern pass over the features of Snape's usually distant demeanor. However, it was replaced almost immediately with a mask of aloofness.

Drained from his coughing fit, Harry lay there quietly, as his teacher pulled the covers over him.

It was certainly unusual to see the softer, more caring side of the Potions Master. A refreshing change, Harry thought.

"Thank you." Came the cautious whisper.

He received a curt nod in response. "I'll return in ten minutes."

--

Severus left the room, his insides twisted in a knot. He wasn't sure how he felt towards the boy.

He had let the boy hear him call him Harry. He had let his defences down.

Harry Potter, that arrogant little boy had seen his mask down. How could that have happened? Severus kicked himself mentally.

But he knew Harry wasn't arrogant. Behind that usual confident façade was a scared little boy, very much insecure and wary of the world around him. In fact, he was nothing like his father, and Severus knew that.

But to let Harry see the other side of him, it was something Severus never should have done.

Severus Snape never let others close to him. He, all of all people should know that.

Ignoring his misgivings, Severus knew that Harry had serious problems. He had seen the way Harry had flinched and reacted this morning and the night before. His childhood had indeed left him with many uncertainties, many obstacles to be overcome.

Instinctively, Severus felt this desire to protect this scared boy, to shield him from any more harm.

A sudden realization struck him.

_Severus Snape was going soft._

The thought made him shudder inwardly.

Shrugging off the thought, summoned a houseelf. It wouldn't do for the boy to lack his necessary nutrition in his already weakened state after all.

--

The boy had fallen into a light doze when Severus next entered the room, carrying the tray of food.

Setting the tray down carefully, he reached out a hand to shake the boy awake.

Harry awoke with a gasp as he felt his shoulder being grasped. His eyes darted around the room nervously before he noticed his teacher standing there patiently.

"Sorry, I thought – I thought I was…" he murmured apologetically, a light blush immediately spreading across his cheeks.

"Your relatives' house?" The tone was neutral, betraying no emotion.

Harry nodded quickly, shivering slightly at his memories. Seeing the tray of food, he quickly tried to push himself up into a sitting position. However, he was still too weak, and his upper body trembled with the exertion.

He felt strong arms grasp his middle and pull him up gently, until he was resting against the headboard, a pillow on his back.

"Thank you," he said softly, still unused to such treatment. He was beginning to like this new Snape, actually.

A spoon came up to his mouth, and he looked at it skeptically.

"It's soup, Potter. I'm not poisoning you."

Harry looked up at the older man. Was there just that hint of a smile playing on his lips? It was quickly replaced by the usual mask of non-emotion.

"Open your mouth, Potter, or do you want me to force feed you?" Came the sarcastic comeback.

Harry blushed, knowing it was not malicious, and swallowed the mouthful. The soup was pretty good, and it soothed his sore throat as it went down. It was strange how he felt comfortable with Snape.

He managed half the bowl of soup before shaking his head.

Understanding, Severus removed the tray, but not before settling Harry back under the covers.

It was evident how exhausted Harry really was, as he was out even before Severus had left the room.

Why was he even thinking of Potter as Harry? Severus clenched his fist around the tray he was holding. He knew he was absolutely clear how he felt towards the boy. He was, wasn't he?

After all, calling him Harry didn't mean anything.

"No, it doesn't. He's still Potter to me. I just don't want to scare him further, that's all." He muttered darkly to himself as he strode out of the bedroom.

--

"Ah. Severus! How is young Harry there?"

A familiar voice startled Severus out of his musings. He looked up, straight into the twinkling blue eyes of Albus Dumbledore.

"He's fine, Albus," he replied gruffly.

Dumbledore didn't reply, just continued to smile blindingly at his younger colleague.

"He's better now, still weak though." Severus gave in. He never could stand that gaze. "But he had a nightmare last night. His uncle did some serious damage to him. He's still afraid of touch." He reluctantly added, thinking back to Harry jerking at unexpected touches. A slight tinge of anger had gotten into his voice as he thought about the abuse Harry had suffered at the hands of his uncle.

This anger, though, had not gone unnoticed by the Headmaster, and if possible, his eyes twinkled even more blindingly.

"Good to see that you have taken great care of Harry, Severus."

Severus did not reply, simply turning away.

"Sometimes it's good for you to learn to care."

"Cryptic, as always, Headmaster." Severus said snidely. But the statement had hit him hard. It left in him this unexplainable knot, a strange reluctance to accept it. It was odd, really, that he should be so affected by the boy.

"Have a seat, Albus." He said abruptly, wanting to get off the subject.

Nodding, Dumbledore sat down on the couch, Severus taking a seat opposite him.

"How's Draco?"

"He's fine. I spoke to him the other day. He had noticed the change in Potter too."

"Get him to help Harry. They are good for each other."

Severus did not reply. It was an interesting thought, really, if the two could become friends, there was no doubt that they would be good for each other. After all, they had been through similar experiences, though maybe slightly worse in the case of Potter.

He had had personal experience too, Severus thought of his childhood bitterly. His eyes clouded over.

A hand on his shoulder startled him out of his thoughts.

"I know what you are thinking of, Severus. Don't let your own childhood disillusion you. There are ways, after all, to put him out of that dark place. And maybe you, too, will find some solace."

Severus snorted in derision, choosing not to respond.

--

Harry was sleeping quite soundly, Albus observed as he stood beside the bed. At his side was the younger Potions Master, arms folded, eyes expressionless, betraying no hint of his true thoughts.

Severus was good for young Harry, and it was clear that Harry was recovering fast, although his emotional wounds would take longer to heal.

A small whimper distracted the two men, and they looked immediately to the bed.

Harry's brow was slightly furrowed, his fists curled tightly on the comforter. His body was tense, his jaw clenched tightly. His leg jerked out suddenly, as though in self-defense.

"No…" came the scared whisper.

The boy curled up into a foetal position, one hand travelling quickly down to the waistband of his pants and clutching tightly.

"No." The whisper came slightly louder, more panicked.

"Please…" The tone was pleading now. A thin sheen of sweat dotted his forehead.

The two men stood transfixed, half-horrified by the sight of this boy trapped in his nightmares, trapped in the shadow of his past, pained by his emotional wounds.

Albus reached out a hand, touching Harry's cheek briefly, but was unprepared for the flinch that came.

"No, no no no. Please no. Not again." Came the hurried hoarse mutter.

The boy curled up even tighter.

Severus instinctively reached out a hand uncurl Harry's fingers. To his surprise, the boy latched immediately onto his hand, clutching it desperately as though it were a lifeline.

Almost immediately, all the tension on Harry's face dissipated, and his breathing slowed.

Unable to move, Severus simply stood there.

"It looks like you are really good for him, Severus." Came the quiet statement.

--

_A/N: I know it's been a really long break. I'm sorry, but I really had no time. I just renewed my interest in this story, so I'm going to try completing it. Hope you'll continue reading and leave a review! Thanks_


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